Domino
by Darthanne
Summary: What would have happened if Quatre had made a different decision and not become Sandrock's pilot? Can one man really make a difference? ( AU. 3x4x3, 1x2 )
1. Teaser

Domino 

An AU Gundam Wing fanfic 

By Anne and Raletha

Authors' notes: This is the teaser to the canon based AU series, Domino. Future episodes will deal with the after effects of a decision made in this story. As in a stack of dominos, the way one piece falls or changes direction soon effects others, until that seemingly insignificant decision could very well change the entire outcome or survival of all the players

This series will be archived at 

Shades and Echoes: http://www.angelfire.com/ab7/shadesandechoes/domino.html and

Slice of Heaven: http://www.angelfire.com/realm2/slice_of_heaven/GW.html

Disclaimer : Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. We are not making any money from this, though we do admit to having fun and losing a lot of sleep. 

Thanks to : Bast and Maureen for support, encouragement and beta comments. Also to Jessie and Ash who pre read and gave opinions on this 'episode'

Feedback is welcomed and can be sent to : 

anneo@paradise.net.nz and geekpuella@yahoo.com

**********

Pre Series Teaser 

Quatre strained his ears to listen to the two men talking, as he leaned against the solid wooden door of his father's office. His father's was the clearest but he was sure he knew the other voice. Recognising it as he'd been passing by, he'd fought the urge to knock, realising that the conversation would probably change if they knew they had an audience.

Even though his father was grooming him to take over the Winner family business, there were obviously some things his heir was supposed to stay blissfully ignorant about. Subjects, for example, such as this. Topics that he knew far more about than his father suspected. Parents, even those with as much influence as Haroun Winner, couldn't protect their children from the reality of what was going on in the Colonies and on Earth forever. Sometimes Quatre suspected he was far less naïve in such matters than the so-called older and wiser male in the family. 

Quatre took a sharp breath at the change of pitch in his father's voice. War? Weapons? Why would his father, a pacifist, be talking about such things? He put his ear to the door, trying to follow the rest of the conversation, then moved quickly into the shadows as he heard footsteps.

Quatre recognised the man instantly, even from behind. The bald head, the trick in his walk, it could only be one person. Why was the man he'd met on the shuttle two years ago here on L4 talking to his father?

H continued down the hallway, pausing to glance towards the office behind him with a sigh. 

On impulse, Quatre ran after him and called out. "Wait!"

Instructor H turned in surprise. "What is it?" A small smile formed on his face, almost as though he knew something Quatre didn't and the blond frowned. 

"I heard you talking to my father."

H nodded. "And something about this conversation interests you?" /_Am I missing something?/ _A shiver ran down Quatre's spine, as he tried to process the emotions coming strongly from the scientist in front of him. /_Hope. Anticipation of things to come./ _And something else he couldn't quite decipher. 

Quatre glanced around, making sure his father or anyone else acting as his ears weren't likely to overhear. "There's a resource satellite belonging the Winner family about to be abandoned. If you continue your work there it's unlikely OZ or the Alliance would find you."

The rotund man paused, blinking several times before responding carefully, "Why are you telling me this? Surely you must realise what my work is?"

Quatre examined the part of the floor where the wood tone was slightly different in colour due to wear and tear, then met H's gaze. When he spoke, his voice was soft but firm. "Someone has to fight. It's not right for this war to go on forever."

H nodded again, this time slowly and Quatre could feel the hope rise in the man. /_Please don't ask me that. Please don't._ / "Will you be that someone? Would you fight….to help end the war, to end the bloodshed?" 

The silence between them rose to a deafening roar as they stood, facing each other. Quatre shifted uncomfortably, fighting the urge to fidget as H examined him carefully, his eyes narrowing expectantly as he waited for a reply. 

"I…" /_Could he be right? Could I be that person?/_ Quatre looked away from H's intense stare, glancing down at the floor again briefly, as he struggled to collect his thoughts. His throat felt dry, yet the hands clenched at his side were moist with perspiration. 

No, it wasn't the right time. /_I can't do this now. Not yet/ _"No, I'm sorry. I can't yet… I'm not ready." Quatre took a deep breath before continuing. "One day, perhaps I will be - but for now - all I can do is help you to complete your work. I can do more good here, doing what I'm best at." His tone changed to one of bitterness tinged with a degree of sadness. "Doing what I'm more suited to."

Some of the newly awakened light in H's eyes died with Quatre's words. The blond looked away, trying to ignore the guilt rising within. /_Is this the right decision? Or I am trying to justify my cowardice? No! I just…I want to be proud of myself. I want to help, but when the time is right./ _Acting in this capacity before he was ready could be worse than not acting at all. This decision wouldn't alter the ultimate outcome of the project. He was only one person; it wasn't as though his presence was crucial in the grand scheme of things. 

His father's words echoed through his mind over and over. /_A pacifist has no right raising a weapon against others, _he had said. /_But there were different ways to deal with this threat, ways that were just as effective./_

"Could you at least take me there?" H's eyes reflected the sadness in Quatre's heart, and he took a step closer to the older man before he realised what he was doing. 

"Yes, I can do that much for you." The blond paused, surprised at the regret of his voice. "I hope you find the person you need." 

H spoke softly, in almost a whisper. "So do I."

******

TBC

~ Coming soon ~

Domino: Episode One. 

The Shooting Star They Saw.

While on a commercial shuttle bound for Earth, Relena Darlian meets Quatre Winner and the two observe an unidentified object re-entering the atmosphere. New mobile suits called Gundams appear at different places around the Earth, and their pilots Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton and Chang Wufei attack various Alliance resources. Later Relena meets a strange boy at the beach. Who is he and why is he so hostile towards her? 


	2. Episode One

"Domino" Episode 1

A Gundam Wing AU by Anne and Raletha

Feedback:

Anne: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

Raletha: geekpuella @ yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. We are not making any money from this, though we do admit to having fun and losing a lot of sleep. 

Summary: While on a commercial shuttle bound for Earth, Relena Darlian meets Quatre Winner and the two observe an unidentified object re-entering the atmosphere. New mobile suits called Gundams appear at different places around the Earth, and their pilots Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton and Chang Wufei attack various Alliance resources. Later Relena meets a strange boy at the beach. Who is he and why is he so hostile towards her?

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Eventual 3x4x3, 1x2x1.

Warnings: mechanical violence, mild angst.

Archives:

Anne: http://www.angelfire.com/ab7/shadesandechoes/domino.html

Raletha: http://www.angelfire.com/gundam/serendipity/Domino/domindex.html

Notes: Just a reminder, the premise of this canon based AU is answering the question, "What if Quatre had made a different decision and not become Sandrock's pilot?"

************

Opening Credits

As the bouncy strains of "Just Communication" begin, Anne and Raletha stand to thank a few people who helped with this fic.

Trowa and Quatre step forward as Lady Bast makes her entrance, moving with the grace and dignity only a goddess can possess. Each boy takes a turn whispering in her ear before giving her a warm hug.

Thank you Bast, for the beta reading!

The boys escort the lady to her seat and Treize steps forth. Clad in his formal OZ uniform, he graciously approaches Jessie and drops to one knee, speaking to her softly before taking her hand and kissing it.

Thank you Jessie! For your help with Wufei!

Now, Zechs and Noin greet a middle aged man, each firmly shaking his hand and saluting with respect.

Thanks to Raletha's father for his help with the technical details of piloting and such!

Now, the scene changes, Anne and Raletha are reclined on low Greek-style sofas in a verdant, spring garden. The Gundam boys, each clad in nothing but loincloths approach with trays of delicacies and iced beverages. Wufei selects a large palm frond and begins fanning the authors. Quatre and Duo approach Anne to offer her drink and hand feed her grapes. Trowa and Heero attend similarly to Raletha.

Enjoy the episode!

***************

~previously~

This decision wouldn't alter the ultimate outcome of the project. He was only one person; it wasn't as though his presence was crucial in the grand scheme of things.

His father's words echoed through his mind over and over. _A pacifist has no right raising a weapon against others, _he had said. _But there were different ways to deal with this threat, ways that were just as effective._

"Could you at least take me there? H's eyes reflected the sadness in Quatre's heart, and he took a step close to the older man before he realised what he was doing.

"Yes I can do that much for you." The blond paused, surprised at the regret in his voice. "I hope you find the person you need."

H spoke softly, in almost a whisper. "So do I."

************

The human race has ventured out from the Earth, seeking to build a future in the space colonies. But under the banner of justice and peace, the United Earth Sphere Alliance has seized control of these colonies, using its superior military power. 

It is the year After Colony 195.

However, a few colonists rebel against this oppression and send new weapons to the Earth, disguised as shooting stars. But the Alliance has discovered the existence of Operation Meteor…

************

EPISODE ONE – THE SHOOTING STAR THEY SAW

************

"Is this seat taken?" The blonde girl glanced up at Quatre as he addressed her, giving him a small smile and shaking her head. He made himself comfortable, glad of finding someone his own age to talk to, as she held out her hand in greeting.

"I'm Relena Darlian," she introduced herself. "These shuttle trips can be quite boring. Is this your first time visiting Earth?" Her words were polite like her tone, but there was some underlying bitterness and pain accompanying them - not obvious, but enough for someone with abilities such as himself to pick up on clearly. The stay in the colonies hadn't been fun for her, he presumed. 

Quatre took the proffered hand, noticing how cool her skin was against his own. "My name is Quatre Raberba Winner," he said. "And yes, this is my first time on Earth." His tone grew wistful. "Our family is based on L4 and my father is busy…"

Relena nodded sympathetically. "I know what that's like. This trip was really for my father. I just came along for the ride. I had hoped it would be an opportunity for us to spend some time together but…" She glanced over to where her father was sitting, half dozing, a few seats down. "I know it's important what he does and all, but I'm still his daughter." She gave him a small shy smile. "And you must be wondering about me, going on like this to someone I've only just met."

He returned the smile, "Don't worry about it. Sometimes it's easier to talk to someone you don't know." The blond glanced over at his tutor and sighed. Much as he enjoyed the stimulating discussions with Nigel, there were times when he yearned for other company. If only his father would consider allowing him to attend a regular school, if he were given the chance, if only for a while, to be a regular teenager and not the Winner family heir. 

A female voice came over the shuttle loudspeaker, before Relena could answer. "We are about to enter the Earth's atmosphere. Please fasten your seatbelts and stay seated."

The adults stood to move back into their correct seating and Quatre followed suit. "We can talk later, if you'd like," he promised, pulling away as he stood to find his way back to his own seat. He hadn't even noticed that her hand had still been grasped in his, as she reached out for the company he had offered. 

He settled himself into his seat, fastening his belt firmly, unable to help but overhear the conversation between Relena and her father coming from behind. 

"What's wrong, Relena? Don't you want to go back to Earth?" Mr Darlian's tone was full of concern, as he tried to find out what was disturbing his daughter's peace of mind. 

Relena's reply was almost to herself, her whisper revealing her dissatisfaction with the way her trip had turned out. "No, I don't." From the reflection in the glass, Quatre saw her turn away from her father, opting instead to gaze out the shuttle window. The undercurrent of disappointment and bitterness were present in more than just her words, and he fought the urge to offer a word of comfort. He was eavesdropping on a private conversation; overstepping the boundaries of good manners would be a mistake. It was up to Mr Darlian to put things right - hopefully he would have the right words to say – to give better reassurance as to the importance of his child over his job than Quatre's father had done for him. 

Darlian stroked his beard with one hand, as he spoke firmly but with regret. "I feel as bad about this as you do, but it's my job." He paused, his tone softening. "I know you wanted more from this trip, that you wanted some quality time, but what I'm trying to do is important."

__

More important than me? Quatre knew what she was thinking even without hearing the words - they echoed those he'd silently repeated to himself many times. He sighed. Hopefully Relena and her father would try to build the bridge needed to close the gap between them. He'd tried with his father, but Haroun Winner never seemed to have the time to listen. "We'll talk later about whatever is bothering you, Quatre," he'd always said. Quatre suspected later would never come. 

"Maybe next time…" Relena's words were forced, full of false hope and Quatre turned away, suddenly embarrassed at being party to something which was really none of his business. 

He concentrated his attention on the stars outside his window, attempting to replace the mixture of anger, sadness and disappointment coming from Relena with his own hopes and dreams. Soon he would be on Earth. All his life he'd waited for this moment, the opportunity to breathe fresh air, to feel real wind caress his cheek, and ruffle his hair. Even though he was supposedly on Earth to learn about the inner workings of the Winner family business, he was determined to take some time out to follow at least some of that dream he'd clung to since childhood. 

__

What was that? 

"Father, what's that?" Quatre was undoing his restraint, and out of his seat to get closer to the window before Relena had finished voicing his thoughts. 

"Master Quatre, get back in your seat." Nigel chastised in his clipped British accent, putting out a hand to restrain his young charge.

"I'll be fine, Nigel. Didn't you see it?" Quatre ducked to avoid the obstacle his tutor represented, and joined Relena at her window. His had been partially blocked by the high seatback in front of him, and he sensed somehow that whatever the bright light had been, it was important. 

Quatre shivered, as cold fingers crawled up his spine in some weird sense of anticipation. Something or someone was coming. That was all he knew, and he gripped the side of window frame to stop himself shaking. He could feel himself being tugged, pulled empathically towards whatever, whoever was out there. The blond couldn't have broken that connection, or prevented its inception…even if he'd wanted to.

"Whatever it is, it's re-entering Earth's atmosphere," he noticed, forcing himself to keep the excitement out of his voice. Was that emotion even his? "Is it a capsule?" he wondered. It must be, maybe he was picking up on the pilot? But how? His abilities weren't that strong, and he'd certainly never felt such a strong empathic link before with someone at this distance.

"Is this Operation Meteor?" 

"Operation Meteor?" Quatre asked, his curiosity piqued, but Darlian ignored him, seemingly unaware he'd even spoken aloud.

Excitement changed to puzzlement, the sudden exhilaration giving way to triumph. Quatre let out a small laugh, unsure as to why. He glanced around, hoping no one had noticed. What the hell was going on out there?

The bright light faded from view as it continued its flight into the atmosphere ahead of the shuttle, and Quatre closed his eyes, reaching out with his space heart, with his other senses as he tried to make sense of what he was picking up on. 

Power. 

Invulnerability.

Shock.

Quatre swayed, as the connection broke suddenly. _Where are you? _Blackness, he was surrounded by blackness.

"Are you all right?" Relena's concern forced him to open his eyes and focus. To his surprise he was still standing by the window by her side, but there was no sign of the shooting star. 

"What?" he asked lamely, trying to collect his thoughts, to work out what had just happened.

"You seemed a bit…spaced out there for a moment." Relena paused. "I asked you a question and you didn't even seem to hear me." Her voice had a note of disapproval in it. This was a girl who didn't like to be ignored by anyone, whether intentionally or not. 

Nigel was hovering in the background, disapproval coming from _him_ loud and clear. Quatre sighed. His tutor would probably be watching him carefully once they landed, which was really the last thing he needed, and would probe him for details once they were alone. How could he answer questions on an incident he had no explanation for?

"I was thinking," he explained, hating himself for taking that way out, but knowing it was the wisest course of action under the circumstances. "I'm sorry I didn't answer." The blond gave her a smile of reassurance, pleased to see her relax slightly. "It wasn't deliberate."

"Master Quatre, it's time you took your seat," Nigel told him, his tone suggesting that although he was merely a tutor, his opinions were to be adhered to. "The shuttle is about to land." 

Quatre nodded. "Sorry, Nigel. I'll be right there." He sank into his seat, his mind racing as he tried to formulate his next course of action. Something was going down, that was for certain. Operation Meteor. Whatever the phrase meant, it was certainly tied into what he'd experienced. Once they got to Earth, he'd use whatever resources he could put at his disposal to discover more.

Relena gave him a small wave goodbye while his mind was still trying to piece the puzzle together, before she and her father were mobbed by reporters as they made their way down the escalator towards the exit of the spaceport.

"Mr Darlian, what did you discuss at the Summit meeting? What are the Colonies' demands? Will there be war?"

Quatre deliberately took a step back, slipping into the shadows to avoid being noticed by the small but determined group. He just wasn't in the mood for cameras and stupid questions. Besides it wouldn't do to advertise the presence of one of the most powerful influences in the colonies at this point. Not even if that presence were only in the form of its fifteen year old only son and heir.

He felt Relena bristle, as she noticed the military personal waiting on the ground floor. "Welcome back, Vice Minister Darlian. A car is waiting outside. Please follow us."

Darlian visibly hesitated. "So soon? But I have to prepare a birthday party for my daughter. Can't this wait?" Her birthday? No wonder Relena had been so upset on the shuttle. 

The uniformed man was all business. "We've prepared another car for your daughter…"

Relena interrupted, putting on a brave front. "It's all right. I know how to get home. I'll see you later, Father." Darlian hesitated again, obviously torn, but knowing where his duty lay.

"Come on, sir. General Septem is anxious to speak with you." The Alliance official manoeuvred Darlian towards the car with practiced ease, and within minutes Relena was left standing alone, watching her father disappear into the distance.

Even the reporters had gone.

"Excuse me, Nigel." Quatre didn't wait for his tutor to respond, as he quickened his pace to catch up with Relena. "Relena!". He couldn't let her just leave in her present state. She needed to know someone cared, that someone could take the trouble to make sure she got home okay. He'd been in that situation too many times, and knew how much it hurt. 

Relena turned, her frown turning to a smile as she noticed him. "Quatre…" She rummaged around in the small handbag she carried, her frustration clear as she unsuccessfully attempted to find whatever she was searching for. She bit down on her lip, losing her grip on the bag and it fell to the floor. 

Quatre reached out and took one hand in his, trying to calm her. "It's okay," he said. "Can I give you a lift home?" He bent and retrieved her bag with his free hand. 

"Thanks for the offer, but no." Relena smiled sadly, her next words drowned out by the piercing metallic whine, which overlaid the reverberating, almost ostinato bass, of the engines of the carrier passing overhead. They both glanced upwards, waiting for the deafening noise to cease, then she broke the silence which followed. "If it weren't for the military planes, this place would be an ordinary, peaceful spaceport." Her next question took him by surprise. "Don't you wish there was no need for weapons, or the military?"

He paused before answering, unsure whether his answer would be what she wanted or needed to hear. "Yes I do, but I suspect changing human nature isn't going to achieved easily."

Relena shook her head. "I need to be able to think there must be an option." She smiled. "Thanks for coming after me, but I'm going to walk home. It's not far, the fresh air will help." She felt inside her bag again, this time in the side pocket and handed him an envelope. "It's my birthday tomorrow. I'd really like it if you could come. Please say you'll try."

Quatre slipped the envelope into his pocket. "I can't promise," he said. "But yes, I'll try." 

"I suppose that's all I can ask." 

He held out his hand. "Nice to have met you, Relena Darlian." She grinned at the formal farewell and took his hand in hers.

"The pleasure is all mine, Quatre Raberba Winner," she replied, matching his tone, before turning to begin her journey home. 

__

Take care, Relena, he thought. _I get the feeling we haven't seen the last of each other. _His fingers curled around the thin invitation in his pocket, his thoughts drifting back to the phrase her father had used on the shuttle.

Operation Meteor.

"Master Quatre?" The familiar voice made him jump. He'd been so focused; he hadn't heard the approaching footsteps. Thank Allah, Rashid had made it after all. 

Quatre turned to greet his old friend, aware of the huge grin on his face. "Rashid. It's been far too long. I'm so pleased to see you again."

************

Unrelieved blackness slowly gave way to the realisation that he was lying face down somewhere, and no longer in the cockpit of his Gundam.

A rhythmic and susurrant sound permeated his hearing. It sounded wet - waves? A beach, yes, he must be on a beach. Wing had gone down in the ocean; he must have washed up onto the beach. He_ had _made it to Earth.

As the young pilot struggled to consciousness, he heard the vague rhythm of a voice, a female voice. It stopped. Lucidity remained stubbornly elusive while Heero attempted to catalogue preceding events.

As he'd been beginning entry into Earth's atmosphere, a civilian shuttle had been obstructing his course. He had targeted the craft; it had been an obstacle to his mission, and he couldn't allow his vessel to be seen. But before he'd been able to take further action, an Earth assault carrier had come onto his radar. Were they here to intercept _him_? J was right, they did know about Operation Meteor, but Heero didn't have the time to contemplate this new development in detail, nor did he need to. His first priority was that the Alliance not get their hands on either him or his Gundam. And, he amended, that he make it to Earth, if at all possible, to carry out his orders.

The boy had wanted to come to Earth before he died. In a brief moment of relief, the vast blue, green, and white swirls of the planet had begun to resolve into terrain details, he had been able to make out areas of human settlement. He _would _make it to Earth. But, that moment of satisfaction at his arrival to the planet had been short lived as he noted the assault carrier closing the distance between them.

He had tried to escape by taking a steep dive into the atmosphere. His shuttle had been predictably destroyed, but Wing, of course, had not. Escape had seemed likely, but then there had been a change in mission plans from J. He was ordered to destroy the carrier and the mobile suits it carried.

A Leo had emerged from the carrier after he had changed course to intercept the transport. The pilot of that suit had been good, _very_ good. His second shot had even damaged the left drive system of Wing. But Heero wasn't finished yet. After having initiated the transformation from flight mode to battle mode, he was ready to battle the Leo. The heavy vibrations of his machine shifting and rumbling as it rearranged its components were exhilarating. The Gundam was powerful, more powerful than Heero had possibly imagined or anticipated. Even after all the simulation training, piloting the suit in the flesh was incredible.

A pair of Aries had been deployed as the Leo retreated; its pilot perhaps thinking the Gundam was down for the count and easy pickings for his subordinates. Wing had taken several direct missile hits from the pursuing Aries, but the Gundam had shrugged them off with ease. A veritable hail of high calibre rounds from the suits' chain rifles had been even more easily ignored as he turned Wing and brought the buster rifle to bear.

The big gun had charged quickly and released its potent plasma blast, enveloping and destroying both enemy suits with hideous ease. It had been almost funny; the Gundam so vastly outmatched the incompetent pilots in their Aries.

It had been a glorious feeling, a euphoria of power and invulnerability. But the Leo suit had still been there, detaching from its parachute. _Its_ pilot was frighteningly skilled. As the Leo closed on him, fast - very fast - it had dodged a blast from the buster rifle, and the pilot had drawn his beam sabre for melee combat. The Leo was too quick; before Heero could react appropriately, the suit had grappled with Wing, holding him in an unbreakable titanium embrace, effectively handicapping the larger suit, and the Leo pilot had escaped.

His first mission had failed. Helpless, Wing had plummeted into the ocean...

His thoughts catching up with the present, Heero realised his helmet was being removed. He fought harder for clarity, adrenaline pumping, filling him with fresh energy, as he anticipated the potential for danger. 

"He can't be any older than I am..." The voice beside him was the same as before. Reflexes tuned by having spent his life as an assassin enabled Heero to move rapidly and assuredly, rolling away from the voice and standing, covering his face with one hand. His eyes widened as he recognised the girl kneeling in the sand. She was the girl from the colony, the daughter of Vice Foreign Minister Darlian. Her limpid blue eyes were wide in her pale face framed by honey blonde hair, as she tried to calm him, "Don't move! I've called an ambulance. Help should be here soon."

What if she recognised him? "Did you see it?" he asked, unable to accumulate words for a more eloquent interrogation.

"See what?" the girl looked genuinely confused. Still, he couldn't risk another compromise to his mission. Bad enough that he had lost the Gundam already, his options were dwindling rapidly. And, as if the situation could not be worse, Heero's attention was caught by a sudden exclamation.

"Hey! Over here!" was the cry from above the seawall. Turning, Heero espied the ambulance and its team of paramedics coming down the steps to the beach.

__

Damn it. Heero glanced between the approaching men and the girl, coming to his decision quickly. Stepping back, he punched the self destruct button on his suit. 

Nothing. 

He stumbled sideways, hitting the button harder in frustration. It exploded, throwing him backwards, but the charge had been insufficient. Damning Doctor J, Heero changed tactics. He stood and charged the stairs, catching the three men descending off guard. A swift punch followed by a pair of high kicks left all three sprawled behind him. Leaping through the gate, the young assassin aimed a hard kick at the ambulance window. It shattered but the safety glass held together. Still cursing his bad luck, the boy jumped to grab the top of the vehicle, using his arms as leverage to swing both legs at the window, finally succeeding in breaking through. Taking the driver by surprise, he tossed the stunned man from the ambulance, slid into the driver seat, and took off.

************

Duo let out a few choice curses as he struggled to bring the shuttle under control. "What's the latest?" he asked the sweeper in the co-pilot's seat. 

"They're targeting the propulsion system. Vernier output down forty per cent." Jason ran a hand through his cropped blond hair. "Not looking good, Duo."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Tell me something I don't know, Jase." He frowned, glancing again at the screen in front of him, willing it to change its information but knowing it wasn't going to. "Damn it, engine's been hit." 

He gave the man sitting quietly behind them a quick glare. "What now? Outrunning those military ships isn't an option, and we haven't the fire power to out gun them." Duo paused, then reached over and tapped the guy on the shoulder. "Hey, Doc? I just said we're in deep shit. Got any pearls of wisdom? Cause now might be a good time to share."

G stood, and Duo fought the urge to pat the imitation mushroom the guy insisted was actually his hair, while he waited, hoping for the scientist to suggest a way out. "I don't see any option. We need to abandon ship."

"Huh? C'mon, get real. We can't just abandon…."

G cut across him, his tone impatient. "Duo, come with me." Duo threw Jason an apologetic look, and went to follow the old man. No point in trying to argue when the guy got in this kind of mood. It was easier to find out what he was up to. Sneaky bastard was probably up to something, he figured.

"So, where are we going?" Leaving the cockpit, curiosity got the better of him, and his mind switched into overdrive as he tried to pump G for information. 

"To Deathscythe," the scientist replied, his tone in no way suggesting the implications of what he'd just said. 

Duo didn't even attempt to hide his reaction. "You shitting me? Deathscythe? I thought you said we weren't going to go through with Operation Meteor."

G stopped in his tracks and looked the teenager straight in the eye. "We don't have a choice," he attempted to explain. "We have to co-operate with the Barton Foundation…for now."

Duo clenched his fists and slowly counted silently to twenty. It didn't work. G couldn't be serious. 

He almost hoped G's nose would do a Pinocchio impression and grow even longer. After all, the guy did have a head start in that direction already. 

Nope, no such luck. 

Duo's next words didn't come close to reflecting how disgusted he was, how sick he felt inside. He'd seen so much death and destruction in his life, there was no way he was going to be party to this. "And commit mass murder?" He shook his head, his braid swinging with the force of the gesture. "You can't ask me to help with this, Doc, and you know it."

G's eyes narrowed to small slits glinting dangerously behind his curtain of hair, as he rubbed his hands together and sighed. "I know that, boy," he said. "I said…for now. What I'm suggesting, is that we steal the Gundam and go to the Earth, in accordance with their plan."

"We?" he asked, putting two and two together with regard to what was coming next. He'd been right. Sneaky bastard did have a plan. 

"You," amended G, "go to Earth, but without following through with Operation Meteor." He opened the hangar door, indicating Deathscythe and handed Duo the spacesuit hanging near the Gundam. 

"So in other words, it's easier to tell them it was stolen, rather than go into the fun details about how you think their plan sucks? Doc, I like the way you think." Duo nodded his approval as he climbed into the suit, and entered 'Scythe. "You and I are going to get more closely acquainted than I figured," he told the Gundam softly. Duo fastened his restraints as he leaned over to switch on the monitor directly in front of him, and gave G the thumbs up as his face appeared, on cue, on the screen. 

Part of him idly wondered if this would be a good moment to come out with the phrase, 'What's up Doc?' On second thoughts, maybe not.

"Congratulations, Duo. Deathscythe is now yours." G paused, and Duo inwardly groaned. Now what?

"Hey, I'm not saying thanks yet…"

G's next words confirmed his suspicions. "Now to give you your mission…" Mission? What the hell was the crazy old guy up to now? 

Duo swallowed hard, trying to find something eloquent to respond with, but in the finish settled for the all purpose "Huh?"

G ignored him and continued talking, his voice tinged with an urgency which convinced Deathscythe's new pilot that the scientist had planned this course of action all along. All he'd needed was someone to carry it out, and obviously thought he, Duo Maxwell, was the right person for the job. "Destroy the OZ weapons factory in Guam. I'm uploading accurate maps and your attack route now."

Duo folded his arms and tried to project an air of indignation. "And my reward?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. Still had to give it a shot though, right? After all he had his reputation to think of. 

True to form, G replied without even batting an eyelid. "None," he said, with a tsk tsk tone in his voice. "What idiot is going to reward Death?"

Duo had to agree with that one. "Shit!" A thought struck him. "Hey but if I'm Death, you're Pestilence."

G sniggered; the allegory obviously appealing to him. No surprise there. "Your target is OZ. They disturbed the colonies' peace. This is revenge."

"Wouldn't it be better to just subjugate OZ here, rather than going to Earth to do it?" There was a certain logic in his reasoning, Duo figured, but he doubted G would agree. He just hoped the scientist's overall plan covered the all the consequences of their planned action.

"Don't worry about the colony." G's answered his unspoken question. "Kill before you get killed. That's your mission."

Made sense. He'd seen enough of OZ in action to know what they were capable of. "Gotcha," he said a bit too cheerfully. His next words were said more to himself, and in a whisper. "Better to die than to be taken over by OZ." After all wasn't that why he was going along with this? He'd been given a chance to help the colonies, to fight so that others didn't have to. 

And there was no way he couldn't take it.

Duo powered up Deathscythe's engines, taking into account the slight pull of the pod surrounding the Gundam. He nodded approvingly, feeling the output of the verniers kicking in as he exited the sweeper ship. Smart move hooking the pod control into Scythe's. If the need arose, it would be a piece of cake to ditch the disguise mid flight and kick some Ozzie butt.

The American glanced at the control console, then leaned back in the pilot's seat, content to just feel Deathscythe's controls under his hands. He'd fallen in love with the Gundam the first time he'd seen him. Over sixteen meters of pure gundanium, machine cannons and a beam scythe. What wasn't there to love? _I bet he handles like a dream in battle. Yeah, Maxwell one, bad guys zilch. _ Duo sighed. And the stealth mode was a cool added extra if he ever saw one. The Leo factory in Guam would never know what hit them until it was too late. Why start small when you can do maximum damage first time out?"

Ironic that Shinigami and the Gundam called Death would finish up working together to dish out their own brand of justice to the Ozzies. A part of him regretted he was doing this alone – could be fun with company but still, this way he only had himself to worry about, and that was the way it should be. He was a loner by nature, had been ever since he'd lost his only real family, though a part of him realised that he had a loneliness inside which needed to be filled. Maybe, someday, he'd do something about it. Until then, he'd make do with the memories. 

Both good and bad. 

"I wish you guys could see this," he spoke the wish aloud, clinging to the illusion that his words would be heard, somehow, by those he'd cared about. All those people he'd lost through death. 

Too many. 

A warning light flashed on the control console, indicating he was close to reaching the Earth's atmosphere. _Time sure flies when you're having fun_. He checked his systems over, satisfying himself that everything was well within the correct parameters regarding his approach angle, then readied himself for the rough ride in. _Not much longer,_ he thought, the pod shuddering under the pull of the gravity it was fighting as the retrorockets kicked in. If his estimated trajectory was correct, he should break through just above the Pacific Ocean, a mere hop, skip and a jump away from Guam. 

The pod started to slow, and Duo checked his instruments. If he deployed at 50,000 feet, that should work, considering he wasn't coming in over land. _No need to worry too much about being spotted by the bad guys_, he thought, hitting the control to bring the stealth feature online. After all what was the point of having all these cool options, if he didn't test them out, and use them to his advantage. 

The pod shuddered, giving a sudden jerk as its mooring released at the correct attitude, and disengaged from the Gundam without a hitch, falling into the watery depths below. Duo pushed forward Deathscythe's throttle, making sure to put some distance between him, and the disguise he no longer needed. _Let's see what you can do without the pod to hold you back, buddy. _

He brought Deathscythe lower, switching on his outside scanner to enjoy the scenery. The ocean was so blue here, the coral reefs a bright cascade of colour as he passed over the coast of Australia, on his way to Papua New Guinea. Shame he didn't have time to enjoy it properly. Maybe one day when life did an imitation of what passed for normal in his neck of the woods, he'd take some time out and do the tourist thing. 

Guam. 

Now to find a landing spot and ditch the space suit before he went further. Deathscythe flew over a limestone plateau, then hovered as Duo debated his options and checked info. Yeah, dense jungle. Always a good place to hide in. He grinned. Hiding was one of his strong points, after all. One of the reasons he'd survived so long on his own was knowing when to fight, and when to hide.

Darkness was falling on the small island, and he took a moment to catch a breath of fresh air, as he opened the Gundam's hatch. It was so fresh, so alive, and it smelled of …nature. Flowers of some sort, he presumed, although he didn't have a clue what they were called. There hadn't exactly been time to worry about that stuff in the places he'd lived – he'd been too busy surviving to trouble himself with the niceties of life. Still, whatever it was, it certainly beat the recirculated stuff passed off as the real thing on the colonies.

Duo shook his head. He didn't have time to get all philosophical. There were OZ butts to kick, and sooner, rather than later. 

He strapped himself back into the pilot's seat, double-checking that all his weapon systems were online. Within minutes Deathscythe was ready to show the enemy that their days of oppression were on a one way ticket out. 

The Leo factory was in darkness, apart from the spotlights crisscrossing at intervals. The Ozies were dreaming, thinking mere spotlights would pick up on the likes of Shinigami before he wanted them to. Duo shook his head in mock disgust – they also could be used to his advantage to highlight strategic weaknesses. _Through the roof would be the way to go,_ he decided. Why sneak around when he could have so much more fun with that direct approach? Even though he normally chose the stealth approach, he was itching to see what exactly Deathscythe was capable of, and this was the ideal scenario to do just that.

He moved the Gundam into position quickly; ready to use the element of surprise against the home team advantage. All that could be heard was the sound of hydraulics on the assembly line. The pretty rows of Leos lined up for him were reminiscent of the targets on the firing range at the circus he'd sneaked into as a kid. It seemed almost a shame to gatecrash the party and disturb the peace and quiet – maybe next time they'd do the decent thing and send him an invite. 

"Are we under attack?" someone yelled as he made his entrance, blasting his way through with his beam scythe, glass shattering in all directions. 

__

Nah, you idiot. I'm just the God of Death making my regular house calls. Shinigami at your service. 

Two Leos fell instantly, titanium alloy armour slicing cleanly in two. Explosions rocked the factory, as he made short work of the bad guys. Whoa, Scythe certainly handled well - better than he'd even dreamed. 

__

Go, G, he thought. _I'm suitably impressed. _

A couple of guys yelled to each other before clambering into nearby Leos, trying to take on this new enemy, but they were no match for the Gundam. Another explosion shook the building, the smoke becoming thicker, and the air filling with the stench of burning metal. Duo swung the beam scythe again and this time added a round from his machine cannon to the mayhem. He'd completed his mission, and with minimum resistance. 

"This is Duo," he reported, his mouth turning up in his trademark grin. "I've destroyed the main motor. Now all I have to do is slice my way out of here…"

************

The Gundam had been loaded successfully. The young man now calling himself Trowa had checked and double checked the moorings holding the heavy suit in the atmospheric entry pod. He settled into the pilot's seat of the Gundam, the pod's controls having been routed to Heavyarms' cockpit. Trowa secured his own harness, tightening and tugging each buckle to make certain it would hold fast under the stresses of landing. Over the radio he heard Doktor S giving him his final instructions.

"Good. As of now, young man, _you_ are Trowa Barton. We are entrusting the fate of Operation Meteor to you."

The engineer's words required no response, so Trowa gave none. Instead, he tapped several buttons on the control console, causing the engines to come to life in a steadily rising whine. The familiar vibrations tingled through his body as the boy experienced a sudden wave of anticipation. 

__

So, I am returning to Earth after all.

He quickly scanned all sensor data and engine status gauges before releasing the docking clamps of the pod and pushing the throttle forward. With a sudden jolt and a roar, his craft lurched forward. Rapidly accelerating, he exited the hangar into the waiting inky blackness.

A group of several large mobile suit transports were hanging in the space immediately surrounding the colony.

__

These must be the Barton Foundation's men.

As if on cue, his vid screen flared to life; a blond man appeared and spoke, "We're the task force from the Barton Foundation sent to support you in Operation M."

Trowa targeted the nearest transport without replying.

The man on the screen registered him as someone he did not recognise, "Huh? Who the hell are you?"

Pulling the trigger, with practiced efficiency Trowa destroyed the first transport, and the next, and the next... If he heard the screams of the dying, he did not acknowledge them.

Turning the craft, Trowa set the entry coordinates for Earth. He should be setting down off the coast of England; his first target was the Dover spaceport. Now underway, he turned his attention to the battle recorder and typed his first report, "Operation M has commenced. Acts of treason have occurred. Fleet has been eliminated. Operation M is a failure. Descending to Earth. Battle record 000. Recorder: Trowa Barton."

His ETA to Earth was 3 hours 12 minutes, giving Trowa ample opportunity to scan the databases aboard Heavyarms for tactical information regarding the layout of the Dover base and its defences. He could expect a moderate presence of Alliance mobile suit troops, but it was be unlikely that he would encounter any OZ Specials. The most probable and dangerous units he would face would be Tragos and Leo models. Neither should pose much of an obstacle to the mobile arsenal of the new Gundam.

Perusing the maps of the spaceport once more, Trowa decided on his best approach to the facility, and then closed the files. Then, with deft movements of his fingers, he ran a battery of diagnostics on Heavyarms' weaponry and engine systems. The mech was in fine shape. All ammunition stocks were fully loaded; the engines and hydraulic systems purred with fine tuned efficiency. Trowa had to admit, he was proud of the suit and the work he'd done on it, and was eager to pilot Heavyarms in battle. He'd not yet had the privilege of this much firepower under his control, nor had he ever piloted anything so new and advanced.

Just under two hours remained until atmospheric entry. The young pilot set his pod's perimeter alarms and closed his eyes. With easy concentration, he began to visualise the Dover base, the potential deployment of suits. Imagining different scenarios, Trowa ran several simulations in his mind, preparing for all eventualities. Hopefully, he would be able to limit the casualties, remain undetected, and simply eliminate the Alliance's capability to launch from Dover - but that would be the best case. Worst case, he would be overwhelmed by the unlikely presence of OZ reinforcements, run out of ammunition, and be taken captive. The latter could certainly disrupt his mission for a time, but Trowa put this eventuality in the highly improbable category and instead replayed the more likely possibilities of enemy troop numbers and arrangement.

He opened his eyes with less than 5 minutes until atmospheric contact. Quickly scanning the instruments of the cockpit verified his angle of approach was within parameters, and his calculated trajectory would bring him several miles to the northeast of the Dover spaceport, over the British channel. Forcing himself to relax as the pod began to shudder, Trowa began to prepare Heavyarms for deployment. The setting for each mooring was adjusted to release at 2500 feet. He knew it was a dangerously low altitude for exiting the pod, however, it was necessary if he wishes to maintain the element of surprise. 

With a loud roar, the pod's retrorockets fired, causing the craft to be wracked by tremors as it struggled to defy the force of gravity. Decelerating rapidly, Trowa felt a sudden jerk when the moorings released. His hands flew across the control panel while the pod, now at 2000 feet, blossomed, releasing the Gundam to descend alone. Pushing all the way forward, Trowa slid the throttle outboard to the detent, activating the afterburners of the vernier engines, and pulling away from under the falling capsule. Though the Gundam was unwieldy in flight, and exceedingly heavy, Trowa managed to move off southwest, towards land, as his entry craft plummeted to the ocean behind him, abandoned.

Continuing his flight path over the land, Trowa guided Heavyarms towards an area of dense forest to land. Finding a small clearing, he set the massive suit down with surprising lightness. Quickly, he powered down both Heavyarms' engines and active sensors. After initiating the passive sensors, the tall youth unstrapped himself from the pilot's seat and shimmied out of the cumbersome spacesuit he wore. Stowing the garment, he stretched to relieve the stiffness of having been sitting motionless for the past three and a half hours, and took a welcome drink of water from the small stash of necessities onboard the Gundam.

Settling back into his seat, he glanced over the collected sensor data; there were still no approaching blips on his radar_. The Alliance has become far too complacent during peacetime. I should not have been able to land here without inciting some kind of response. _ Not questioning his good luck any further, Trowa refastened his harness and, after completing a pre-flight check of all systems, powered up the Gundam once more. He set a low altitude flight path to approach the Dover spaceport from the north near the mass driver array that would bring him to land just outside the base where he would proceed with the Gundam on the ground.

The perimeter defences of the base were laughably minimal and Trowa entered with little resistance. The Gundam moved surprisingly well on the ground, despite its bulk and Trowa was pleased at the overall responsiveness of the machine. But, as he moved the arm with the beam Gatling cannon experimentally, the hydraulics felt a touch slow to respond. He'd have to modify the system later, but for now, he attended to the transmission he was receiving over his radio. Finding the Alliance communication frequency had been almost too easy. Breaking the encryption had posed slightly more of a challenge, but now Trowa could overhear the exchange between two enemy pilots:

"This is the Dover spaceport. We are under attack! Repeat, we are under attack!"

"A surprise attack? Who the hell is it?"

"I have no idea. Enemy suit of unknown configuration and affiliation incoming."

__

Complacent and clueless. The pilot grimaced briefly, he had hoped for a better scenario, but he'd been observed. _It's too bad for them..._ "They've seen the Gundam - so much for getting through this mission without witnesses," Trowa spoke to no one but himself, calmly observing and providing an unheard commentary for the battle while his hands glided over the targeting systems of his Gundam. "Destroying the space port would have been sufficient, but now I'll have to eliminate all opposing troops."

Trowa quickly sized up the mobile suit units arrayed ahead of him as he approached the launch tower via the runway. It was as he had anticipated; Leos supported by the heavier firepower of several Tragos suits.

Having piloted both models, the young soldier knew well their strengths and weaknesses. He fired upon the Tragos suits first; they possessed the most dangerous weaponry, but were hampered by their limited and slow mobility. A flurry of high calibre rounds tore through the sluggish suits followed by a barrage of micro-missiles, which not only decimated the damaged Tragos units, but also demolished several of the surrounding Leos. Heavyarms continued to advance and shrug off the incoming hail of fire from the stalwart Leo squadron blocking his path. Trowa threw down more heavy artillery fire from the beam Gatling cannon, sweeping the lighter suits aside in a series of cacophonous, fiery blooms. As the last of the Leo's fell to his assault, the graceful curve of the mass driver array came into range of the Gundam's shoulder mounted missile battery, and Trowa launched a volley of high yield missiles. Gratified by the resulting huge explosion and the quaking of the launch structure, he then launched a second volley to succeed the first.

As the tall mass driver ramp began to heave under the assault, fragment, and collapse, Trowa updated his battle record, "Alliance launch capability at Dover eliminated. Battle record 001. Recorder: Trowa."

************

Wufei surveyed his handiwork with a degree of disgust. OZ had been too weak, too unprepared for his attack. He would have thought the soldiers would have at least put up a better fight.

"There is no pride in fighting against such a weak enemy, Nataku," he told his Gundam. 

"It's Shenlong, not Nataku". O's words repeated in his mind as painful memories resurfaced. 

"Shouldn't you let go of Nataku's memory?" Wufei had shaken his head firmly, but O had insisted on pushing his point. He couldn't forget Nataku - why couldn't the scientist understand that? If he'd only been strong enough to fight instead of losing himself in his books, Meiran would still be alive. He'd failed his wife in life; there was no way he would allow her memory to be tarnished. He had named the Gundam Nataku in her honour, in the hope her spirit, the spirit of Nataku, would be with him during what was to come. 

Wufei sighed, trying to keep his frustration - his weakness - under control as he sent another shot from his plasma cannon towards the other ship. The air was already thick with orange smoke, his targets burning in the water as the troops attempted to halt the attack from the air. He extended his right plasma cannon towards the two small aircraft, twin trails of fire heading towards them on an intercept they couldn't escape, exploding to send them to join their comrades in the afterlife…

"As long as our enemies are destroyed, that is what is important." Those had been his final words to O as he'd left the room angrily, ignoring the scientist doubled over from the blow he'd delivered to his midsection. The Chinese boy hadn't meant to hit the man, but he'd been so angry that he'd acted without thinking, more on instinct than anything else.

"Wait, Wufei." Master Long had called out to him, his tone containing an urgency he couldn't find in his heart to ignore. "Take this with you."

He'd paused, turning to see him holding out a small square box with a bevelled top. "What is it?" he had asked suspiciously. How could he seriously expect whatever 'this' was, would be able to help him? He was beyond help – he could only fight, and hope it wasn't too late to redeem himself for his past. 

The old man spoke quickly, opening the box to reveal its contents. "This is the "Altron," he explained. "It is passed down from each generation of our clan. If you sell it, it should supply you with ammunition for at least a while."

Wufei caught his breath, noting the dragon curled up in the case, like a cat in a small casket, its two heads lying symmetrically on its back. "Thank you," he whispered, unable to find the words he needed.

The old man nodded. "I'm sorry that this is the only thing I can do to help you, right now. My wishes go with you, Chang Wufei."

Wufei bowed, then watched the other retreat. He closed the box, clutching it firmly and made his way slowly to where his Gundam awaited. 

Nataku. As far as he was concerned his wife, Meiran, had died protecting the suit, and therefore her spirit resided in it. And together they would prevent the 'Scourge of Space."

His thoughts returned to the present, Nataku's sensors scanning his surroundings for the enemy. "My name's Wufei," he informed anyone who might be listening. "And I'm not hiding anywhere. This battle will be over in practically no time."

__

************

The blonde girl sat somewhat despondently in the back of her cotton-candy pink limousine as it pulled to a halt outside the St. Gabriel Institute. Even though it was a beautiful morning - the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and a soft breeze carried the delicate scents of the season - Relena found herself unable to enjoy it. She resisted cringing at the thought of the fawning girls she knew would be waiting inside. They were nice enough, and always so friendly and attentive, but they had never seemed interested in her, Relena, but rather in the symbol of her status as the daughter of a wealthy and powerful family. 

And beyond that, the memory of the events in the preceding days was just a touch too surreal for Relena to feel like engaging in the usual mundane pleasantries and routine of her life on Earth so soon. She'd been exposed to so much novelty, the girl wanted to be able to take the time to run through it all - all the places she had been, and the people she had met - and integrate the experiences into her evolving worldview.

It had been wonderful to go to space. The colonies were such an extreme testament to humanity's will to succeed and prosper through adversity. She felt such admiration for the men and women who had given up the comforts and security of life on the planet and ventured into space. They must have been extraordinarily brave souls to face the unknown and carve an existence among the stars - and not just an existence - many were flourishing. After the propaganda fed to the public at large by the Alliance and the mainstream media, Relena had expected the colonies to be little more than unsophisticated backwaters. Instead, she had found them - both the cultures and their artefacts - possessing both a maturity of spirit and a refreshing idealism. She squelched a surge of annoyance at her father for having not had the time to take her to all the places she wanted to go, and for having been led around to the places she had gone by servants instead of family. But, at least she had met someone who understood.

She found a small smile gracing her lips as she recalled her new friend of the previous day. _Quatre Raberba Winner_. He was truly a child of the colonies' idealism and spirit, possessing such refinement, confidence, and gentility. And he'd treated her as a real human being, not just some pretty, little accessory of her father's - or worse, a trophy of some sort to befriend solely for the prestige of claiming her friendship. _He'd seen me, not my name, and not my money._ She blinked back a flurry of brief tears, chiding herself for feeling such a strong response to the simple comfort of the boy's words and gestures of genuine sympathy.

Continuing to contemplate the phenomena of new acquaintances, Relena found the strange soldier-boy she'd found on the beach entering her thoughts. She hadn't told anyone about him yet; it just didn't feel appropriate. He'd been so scared, of that she was sure - so young and scared despite his evident tendencies toward violent action. _He must be lonely_, she thought, _Who or what was he scared of?_ Thinking back on the harried expression in those dark blue eyes, she tried to work out his story. How would a boy her age end up unconscious, in a military spacesuit, on the beach? _Maybe he's a Star Prince! _ she kidded herself with a grin and then was abruptly pulled from her fantasy when her chauffeur spoke.

"Miss Relena?"

"Hmm?" she managed, as she returned to the present.

"Daydreaming again?" he observed with an affectionate chuckle, his squinted eyes meeting hers in the rear-view mirror, "We've arrived."

"Thank you, Peygan."

Relena made her way from the car, through the halls, to the balcony where the students gathered before class. She barely noticed the stately French architecture, nor did she really notice the people she spoke to as she returned each friendly sounding greeting with her own polite, "Good morning." Her thoughts were still on the strange boy from yesterday. She chewed her lip thoughtfully as she walked to class. _He can't be a soldier for OZ or the Alliance, unless he's some kind of deserter._ She wondered if the shooting star they'd seen from the shuttle could have had anything to do with the boy. _What is Operation Meteor?_

Relena found her usual desk and sat down, absently sliding her books into the cubby-hole of the desk. She doubted that her father would tell her more about the cryptic designation, so she decided she would ask Quatre if he knew anything - that was, if he were able to attend her birthday party. The young man had seemed quite interested in her father's words, almost as if he had a suspicion about them. And his reaction to the shooting star had been... strange at best. _Maybe he does know something? Maybe it is something to do with the colonies?_ The rumours of imminent war, or some kind of retaliation from the colonies were becoming more and more pervasive, despite government attempts to reassure that all was well and peace reigned. _The soldier-boy could be from the colonies... some kind of special agent. Or a spy!_

Hanging on this thought, it was with a strong tingle of apprehension that Relena noticed the new student following Sister Charlotte into class. His unruly dark hair over fiercely dark blue eyes - even in the school uniform she was sure she recognised him. 

__

It's him!

Relena could not have torn her gaze from the boy if she had wanted to; she stared at him wide-eyed while he stood before the class as he was introduced. "Quiet please, class. I'd like to introduce a new student." Sister Charlotte gestured for the boy to step forward.

His eyes glinted with a frightening intensity, and his voice was sinister in its cold, almost mechanical, tones, "I'm Heero Yuy. It's a pleasure."

__

I'm positive that's him!

"Take the seat beside Relena, Heero. Feel free to ask her any questions you might have." Relena started as the nun's words registered; her heart raced and she felt a chill crawling up her spine. _Oh no! He looks angry._ Fighting the urge to panic, she watched the boy approach. He wasn't looking at her. _Maybe he doesn't remember me?_ Studying his face, she realised that perhaps it wasn't anger she saw. In fact, he looked almost tired. Her heart turned from fear to a strange, protective pity as her overactive imagination rapidly concocted tragic scenario after tragic scenario of woe for the boy. 

She smiled warmly, and turned to him, "It's nice to meet you, Heero." He didn't acknowledge her words, rather he closed his eyes and just sat there barely moving. A flash of annoyance raced through the girl before she managed to reassure herself, _He's probably just nervous around strangers... Or he's trying to keep a low profile! He _must_ be a spy! But, I wonder why he's here? _ She frowned thoughtfully, deciding on a course of action._ I'll invite him to my party._ Now firm in her resolve to get to know the enigmatic boy and solve his mystery, Relena was able to turn her attention back to Sister Charlotte and the joys of a sophomore Biology lesson.

When class ended, Heero was out of his seat and leaving before she had a chance to get his attention. _Drat!_ Relena collected her books and followed him as surreptitiously as she could. He exited the hall to one of the balconies. Steeling herself to approach the youth, she set her books down and retrieved an invitation from her bag before stepping out onto the terrace herself and stifling an annoyed groan as she heard a number of girls follow her. Heero was standing, leaning against the low stone wall, his attention seemingly far away. He looked quite dashing in the St. Gabriel uniform. _The handsome young spy, planning his next move!_ Relena enthused to herself and took a step forward.

"Um... excuse me, Relena...?" queried Bethany from behind her. Relena ignored the blonde girl and approached Heero; the crowd behind her shuffled forward curiously. 

Heero turned to her, his expression unreadable as she held out the envelope for him to take, "Here you go." He took the invitation and stared at it uncomprehending its significance. "It's my birthday tomorrow," she explained. "I hope you'll be able to make it to the party."

At her words, applause erupted from the surrounding girls. Relena smiled; he couldn't refuse, not with an audience. But then the unthinkable occurred. Meeting her eyes with his cold blue gaze, he held up the paper and very deliberately tore it in half. The wind picked up just then, carrying the fragments away like autumn leaves.

Unbidden, tears sprang to Relena's eyes; the rejection was incomprehensible. She glanced around in confusion, only dimly noticing the crowd had dispersed and she was now alone with the strange boy, "But... But why?" she wondered aloud. A shadow crossed her face as Heero stepped close. She looked to his face once more before he raised a hand to gently brush the tears from her face. Hope was reborn in that instant of his tender caress and she smiled.

But, as the boy moved past, his arm brushing hers, he met her eyes with a sidelong glance, and in a voice all the more menacing for its lack of inflection spoke, "I'll kill you."

Her breath stopped; her heart froze, and the wind tore cruelly at her hair and clothes while Heero walked off, leaving her paralysed by her terror. Finally she spoke, but only in a whisper to herself, "What kind of person is he?"

************

__

~to be continued

************

Next on 'Domino'

EPISODE TWO – The Gundam Called Death

Quatre attends Relena's party, while Trowa joins the circus. Heero attempts to retrieve Wing before Zechs and the Alliance can get their hands on it. Meanwhile in the ocean another Gundam appears.

************


	3. Episode Two

"Domino" Episode 2

A Gundam Wing AU by Anne and Raletha

Feedback:

Anne: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

Raletha: geekpuella @ yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. We are not making any money from this, though we do admit to having fun and losing a lot of sleep. 

Summary: Quatre attends Relena's party, while Trowa joins the circus. Heero attempts to retrieve Wing before Zechs and the Alliance can get their hands on it. Meanwhile in the ocean another Gundam appears. 

Rating: PG13

Pairings: Eventual 3x4x3, 1x2x1.

Warnings: Angst, mechanical violence, gunplay, language. 

Archives:

Anne: http://www.angelfire.com/ab7/shadesandechoes/domino.html

Raletha: http://www.angelfire.com/gundam/serendipity/Domino/domindex.html

Notes: Just a reminder, the premise of this canon based AU is answering the question, "What if Quatre had made a different decision and not become Sandrock's pilot?"

************

Opening Credits

The room is quiet; all that can be heard are the first few bars of "Just Communication", as the other pilots attempt to peer over Duo's shoulder. He's glancing around nervously, and reading what appears to be a script. 

Duo grins, and winks at Quatre. "At least you're getting some fun in this episode, Cat. Rather you than me though."

Quatre leans over and grabs the script, running his eye down the pages quickly. He turns pale, before passing it to Trowa. 

"This is a much worse scenario than facing down a squadron of OZ mobile suits," Trowa comments, placing a comforting arm around his lover. "If this is indicative of what they have in mind, maybe we should start trying to influence them sooner, rather than later?"

"Grease them up?" Duo nods. "Good idea. What do you think, guys?"

Before the other three pilots can give their opinions, Lady Bast enters, followed by Anne and Raletha. "Hi boys," she greets them. "I hope you're behaving."

Wufei, Heero and Trowa exchange glances, while Duo attempts to appear innocent. Quatre is busy leafing through the rest of the script, then looks up and notices the writers after Duo gives him a nudge. He quickly hides it behind his back. 

Bast leans over and whispers to the boys. "Remember I know what you're capable of, and in my capacity of beta reader for this series, I am on the look out for signs that you've been tampering with the…" She coughs, giving them a meaningful look. "Script."

"So in other words, stop greasing," Anne interrupts. "Bast has already warned us about your tactics, and if you two…" She gives Trowa and Quatre a glance, "want 'you know what', I suggest you co-operate."

Raletha smiles benignly at them, the seemingly innocent action reminding them that their fate is very much in her hands, then brings out her secret weapon. Duo's lower lip trembles, as he notices exactly how big the scissors are that she is holding. 

"Thank you, Bast, for beta reading," he says sweetly. "And we promise to behave, really we do. Right guys?"

All the Gundam pilots nod vigorously, then Wufei interrupts. "How did you manage to get most of the dialogue for these opening credits?"

Duo's reply is smug and matter of fact. "Because of the title. _The Gundam Called Death_." 

Enjoy the episode!

************

~previously~

She felt inside her bag again, this time in the side pocket and handed him an envelope. "It's my birthday tomorrow. I'd really like it if you could come. Please say you'll try."

Quatre slipped the envelope into his pocket. "I can't promise," he said. "But yes, I'll try." 

"I suppose that's all I can ask." 

He held out his hand. "Nice to have met you, Relena Darlian." She grinned at the formal farewell and took his hand in hers.

"The pleasure is all mine, Quatre Raberba Winner," she replied, matching his tone, before turning to begin her journey home. 

__

Take care, Relena, he thought. _I get the feeling we haven't seen the last of each other. _His fingers curled around the thin invitation in his pocket, his thoughts drifting back to the phrase her father had used on the shuttle.

Operation Meteor.

"Master Quatre?" The familiar voice made him jump. He'd been so focused; he hadn't heard the approaching footsteps. Thank Allah, Rashid had made it after all. 

Quatre turned to greet his old friend, aware of the huge grin on his face. "Rashid. It's been far too long. I'm so pleased to see you again."

************

The human race has ventured out from the Earth, seeking to build a future in the space colonies. But under the banner of justice and peace, the United Earth Sphere Alliance has seized control of these colonies, using its superior military power. 

It is the year After Colony 195.

However, a few colonists rebel against this oppression and send new weapons to the Earth, disguised as shooting stars. But the Alliance has discovered the existence of Operation Meteor…

************

EPISODE TWO – THE GUNDAM CALLED DEATH

************

As they entered the school gymnasium, dressed and armed for the afternoon's fencing lesson, Heero decided he did not like the other boy walking beside him. The boy, Ken, had approached Heero in the locker room with an air of such arrogance and condescension when he'd suggested they spar together, that the young pilot had been tempted to punch the boy then and there. Unfortunately, satisfying though it may have been to have taken the boy down a peg or two, Heero knew he could not afford the repercussions of such an action. He had tasks he needed to accomplish, and he was running out of time. Further exacerbating the situation, their gym instructor had been nearby and had interceded with the enthusiastic suggestion that Heero allow the magnanimous Ken to take the new boy under his wing and show him around.

However, there was nothing friendly or magnanimous about Ken as far as Heero could discern; the other behaved as if Heero posed a serious threat to him, or his status. Fortunately neither was there anything even remotely dangerous about the sheltered rich boy. Heero had accepted the challenge with a nod and now they stood facing one another. Ken donned his facemask and saluted as he spoke, "Hey, Heero" he began casually, "I heard you ripped up Relena's invitation yesterday. Why'd you do that?" Ken punctuated the last with an overly dramatic flourish of his foil and assumed an _en garde_ stance. [1]

Head bowed and eyes closed, Heero remained still for a moment. _You're my enemy_. He donned his mask without directly acknowledging his opponent.

"I'm her classmate, so it offends me that you'd treat her that way." Ken's tone held a note of derision now, and he nearly surprised Heero with a sudden lunge and _passé_ attack.

Heero's head snapped up as he parried the blow almost reflexively. He'd spent enough time training with assorted weapons and firearms that the _riposte_ he followed with required no conscious thought.

Ken was undeterred and overconfident. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself as a gentleman?" he mocked, pressing forward with his own _remise_.

Indulging the boy for a few more seconds, Heero traded several blows with Ken, but soon tired of the supposed sport. He retreated, allowing the cocky boy to believe he had gained the advantage before suddenly lunging forward, catching the tip of his opponent's blade with his own, the concentrated force of that impact causing both blades to bow and snap. Without flinching, Heero followed through, ending just as the remnants of his blade struck Ken's faceguard, shattering the clear surface of the mask.

__

Idiot, he thought. Stepping back and removing his mask, he spoke, pitching his voice in a dangerous tone, "I wish you'd told me sooner. I would have given it to you." With that Heero turned and walked out, heedless of the way Ken stumbled and fell behind him or of the tittering that ran through the other students and onlookers.

************

"We're under enemy attack. An unidentified enemy has…" The OZ soldier's broadcast finished abruptly as Duo sliced through his suit with his beam scythe.

"Sorry, I couldn't stay and chat," Duo told him, as the guy met the same fate as the other suits unfortunate enough to be in Deathscythe's path of destruction. "But I'm kinda busy right now." He glanced around, frowning. "Geez, you think Howard could be a bit more specific about what I'm supposed to be looking for here. Details help a guy, you know." _Go see what the Ozzies are up to, wreak some havoc, and retrieve whatever they're after before they do._ _Vague, Howard, real vague. _

G's contact on Earth hadn't been quite what Duo had been expecting – nothing could have prepared him for Howard. The guy was cool, even though he did dress and talk like an extra from an old surfer movie, right down to the Hawaiian shirt and dark glasses. Damn good mechanic though, and able to take good care of Scythe; so really what more could he ask for? Apart from an idea of what the hell he was supposed to be looking for down here. Underwater wasn't his idea of fun, although wiping out the Ozzies' suits had been a welcome bonus. 

Another enemy suit appeared on his right, heading for him at speed. _Shit, where did he come from? _Different approach this time might be the way to go. Duo used his Gundam's arms to pull the Pisces apart, the titanium no match for his suit's superior strength, before bringing down the scythe for the crowning blow. Pisces and Cancer, yep those were the names Howard had called the new OZ underwater suits, though he didn't think his new friend had much in the way of info on them. _I suppose enemy specs aren't exactly available for public viewing on an all purpose OZ website. Roll right up, full tour of our new weapons here – Gundam pilots especially welcome. Yeah, right._

His radio cracked as it picked up a transmission between nearby craft. "I can hear explosions. What's happening?"

Duo stifled a laugh. _Hell, you idiot, and your worse nightmares, all rolled into one. _

The voice replying was probably that of an Ozzie superior; it carried a tone of command. "Be careful, the enemy appears to be close by…" The rest of the man's message dissolved into static, and Duo almost felt disappointed; as he was curious to discover the effect his activities were having on the morale of the Ozzies. No point in having fun, if you weren't doing it properly. 

__

What the? Several torpedos hit the water, exploding around him, and Deathscythe lurched suddenly in the unexpected turbulence. _Time to pay those idiots above the surface a friendly visit, and remind them how to play nicely_, he decided. 

Duo hit his thrusters, and headed towards the surface, Deathscythe breaking through the waves in one fluid movement, before coming to land on the deck of one of the ships. He fired once, then twice, wiping out two of the vessels before they had a chance to retaliate. 

He glanced around, deciding on his next move, bringing his suit close to the observation port as he tried to ascertain the soldier's reaction. Duo grinned – for some reason he felt like a kid staring in at rats caught in a cage. 

The men on the bridge stared back at him, clearly panicked. Their captain tried to keep order, but his inferiors were too spooked. After all, Duo supposed it wasn't every day they were attacked by a Gundam. Their loss, not his. 

He turned at a whirring noise behind him. Idiots - like a helicopter had any chance of stopping a Gundam? Duo fired his buster shield; the weapon launched from Deathscythe's left arm connecting the approaching craft at high speed, wiping it out in a fiery explosion. 

"You'll all die," he told whoever was left alive. "Anyone who sees me has got a date with his maker."

Surrounded by the clouds of fire coloured smoke caused by the death and destruction he'd caused, Duo allowed himself a small nod of satisfaction. Yep, things were going exactly according to plan. All he needed to do now was find whatever it was Howard had sent him to retrieve and life would be sweet. 

************

Grimacing, Heero worked the reins more firmly through his fingers, gripping tightly and shortening the length of the leather trailing between his hands and the uncooperative horse's mouth. The spirited animal attempted to toss her head, pulling at the restraint imposed upon her with a snort. The grey mare had given Heero a wild-eyed look of apprehension as soon as the young pilot had approached her in the school stables earlier; she wasn't any happier now.

__

Riding a horse surely can't be this hard, Heero protested silently, focusing all of his attention on finding a way to maintain his balance on the creature who was most displeased to find him on her back. _It's just a matter of knowing which muscles to tense and which to relax_, he told himself, trying to find some analogy from previous experience - both actual and simulated. Beneath him the horse bucked and then took advantage of his momentary distraction to canter away from the main group, heading for the wide lawns and manicured shrubbery of the school's grounds.

__

Wrong way. He scowled, gripping onto the saddle with his knees and relaxing his lower back as he leaned forward. _That's better_, he noted, gradually discovering how to move with the native rhythm of the mare's gait. But his momentary ease was soon forgotten as the horse launched herself from the ground to jump a nearby, low hedge. Gravity temporarily abandoned the boy as the horse flew over the barrier, and he nearly lost his grip on the reins while his right foot lost its purchase in the stirrup. She landed back onto the ground with a jolt, causing Heero to lurch dangerously off-balance before he recovered his seat.

Ignoring the surprised gasps coming from the other riders nearby, all of _their_ mounts behaving in a much more sane fashion, Heero struggled to reassert enough control over the horse to guide her in the direction he desired. The temporary loss of control over the animal would provide a good cover for him to get away from the lesson and take care of some business. Fortunately, the mare now seemed content to comply with the route she was taking her rider, and she finally yielded her attempts to unseat the boy. 

Shortly thereafter, Heero had abandoned the horse (who was only too happy to spend the designated lesson time eating grass from the school's carefully maintained lawn) and had, with the aid of a tree and a drainpipe, successfully broken into a third story computer lab in one of the girls' dormitories.

The first thing was to find a means to destroy the Gundam before OZ or the Alliance successfully recovered the suit. He'd hacked into some encrypted OZ transmissions last night and discovered that there was an operation underway to salvage an unidentified object that had fallen into the ocean not far from the coast. It had to be Wing.

Scanning quickly through the listing of military facilities in the region, Heero's attention was caught by the designation: Alliance Marina Weapons Warehouse. _If they insist on advertising, it makes my job easier._ Now he needed to access their inventory to determine the best candidate for his mission.

It didn't long to discover the address of the server running the firewall for the base. Heero's hands flew across the keyboard as he initiated a discrete port scanning utility. Eyes narrowing as most of the packets flung at the firewall were rejected, Heero mentally cursed himself for having not been better prepared for this eventuality. With foresight, he could have employed far more elegant techniques to break into the base's data.

Ah, there was hope, however. A surge of adrenaline accompanied the recognition of a single port that had been left unsecured, and it looked as if it were only listening for an outdated file transfer protocol. He'd found his way in, but the door was only cracked - he needed a wider opening. Without pause - because who knew how alert the base's system administrators were? - Heero launched another application he'd written. It was designed to embed executable code into the wrappers in the packets he was sending to the open port, and establish a server on the other side through which he could gain full access to the data downstream from the firewall.

Soon he was able to connect through the system's vulnerability and after a cursory search through the warehouse database, he found listings of potential armaments: air-to-surface missiles, air-to-air missiles, surface-to-surface missiles, cruiser missiles, and finally - what he needed - deep-water torpedoes.

"These will destroy it," he whispered as he eagerly surveyed the schematics of the torpedoes. "Guiding functions installed... " All he needed to do was program the torpedoes with the coordinates of his Gundam - and he had already recovered that data from the OZ transmissions he'd monitored. With a sinister smile that would have unnerved any witnesses, had any been present, Heero ran a quick script designed to erase all traces of his activity from the base logs, and disconnected from their computers. 

He still needed a way to move the missiles from the Marina Warehouse to the wharf nearest the position of his Gundam. He'd left the ambulance hidden not too far from the school in case he required it again, but he still needed a way to get back to it. The coming and going of service vehicles was a persistent activity near the school's cafeteria. He might be able to stowaway on one of them. 

But first, he had one last task. "Now for the minor revisions," he murmured, changing the data disk in the drive of the machine he was using. It contained the results of the password sniffer he'd run on the St. Gabriel administration computers that morning.

Logging in through the Bursar's account, he quickly found the file for one Heero Yuy. As his fingers nimbly changed data in each relevant field he spoke. "Heero Yuy. Entrance fees unpaid... cleared. Boarding unpaid... cleared. Bursary funds... cleared." And finally, "Financial check on Heero Yuy... no problem."

Heero glanced at his watch. Twelve minutes had passed. _Not bad_. Plenty of time remained to rejoin the dressage lesson and establish his alibi. Standing and peering out the window he was pleased that his horse hadn't wandered far.

************

Quatre took another sip from his glass, enjoying the slight bite of the cool fruit punch, before glancing around the room again. A small group of girls were standing in the corner giggling, and he was sure he'd seen them staring in his direction more than once. Obviously they were trying to work out who he was, and his connection to Relena. It was almost tempting to walk over, and put them out of their misery, although he was sure that wouldn't exactly be in his best interest.

He was under no illusions of what the girls' intentions were towards him. Quatre had experience as to what female hormones were capable of, from the few sisters who had still been living in the main Winner household. Part of him had always been relieved most of his siblings were residing elsewhere - he'd always been told they were on various resource satellites. The other part wished he could get to know all of them before the time came for him to take over from his father and run the family business.

He sighed. 

Having the responsibility of being the Winner heir was something he could well do without at times, but he was still determined to make his father proud, to be the best he could – if only he could do it on his own terms. He and his father had never seen eye to eye on certain subjects; and Quatre knew it was only time before those differing opinions would lead to an argument between them. Hopefully the longer he could avoid that discussion, the more chance he had of winning the elder Winner over – but maybe that was wishful thinking, since the one thing they did have in common was their stubbornness to cling to the ideals they believed in. 

"Excuse me," a high pitched female voice asked hesitantly. 

__

Uh oh. It was one of the girls who had been eyeing him up for the past half an hour. 

Quatre turned, fixing a polite smile on his face. "Yes?"

The blonde girl giggled, then held out her hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Bethany." Her voice dropped to a near whisper, as she divulged the next piece of vital information. "I'm one of Relena's closest friends, and…" She glanced over at the small gaggle of girls watching her, then continued. "Well, if you have any… you know, intentions towards her, I think you should be up front about them." 

Quatre stared at her, unsure as to whether he'd heard correctly. "Intentions?" he repeated. The direct approach would be the best under the circumstances. The blond took the proffered hand, and shook it. "My name is Quatre Raberba Winner, and I assure you I have no intentions towards Relena apart from friendship."

Disappointment rolled off Bethany in waves. "Friendship? Oh…" Her face brightened, and her demeanour changed as her initial response was replaced by something else entirely. "Good…um… I mean…" The blonde girl blushed and Quatre inwardly groaned, as he felt several pairs of eyes scrutinise him carefully. Bethany hooked her arm through his and steered him over to the small group of girls who had been listening to their conversation with great interest. 

"Quatre," gushed the blonde, her grip preventing him from politely slipping away, "these are some of the girls from St Gabriel's. Girls…" and Quatre couldn't help but cringe as they turned as one, fixing him with their stare. A sudden image came unbidden into his mind of a pack of wild animals hunting their prey, and he knew full well the part he was expected to play in their carefully orchestrated performance. "Girls," repeated Bethany, a note of what could only be triumph in her voice, "this is Quatre Raberba _Winner."_

The glances they exchanged and their reaction to his name said it all. Poor Relena; if these were the type of people she mixed with everyday, no wonder she had been so grateful for his friendship and sympathy. 

"How are you enjoying Earth?"

Quatre took a long sip of his drink before replying, taking care to keep his tone polite and interested. "The Earth is very beautiful, and yes I'm enjoying my time here, thank you." It had been wonderful to meet up with Rashid and the other Maguanacs again. Two years had been far too long, and Quatre had settled into their company as though the separation had never taken place. He felt comfortable with them – they treated him like family and in a way they were more of a family to him than his own had ever been. Rashid, Abdul and the others took pride in who they were, and in their association with him. Meeting them when his shuttle had been hijacked had been a turning point in his life, and he had no intention of returning to the way things had been. He had taken a step forward that day, and it was important to continue being proud of himself, to make the right decisions when needed. 

"How long have you known Relena?"

"Not long. We met on the shuttle on her return to Earth." The girl nodded, and waited for more details, her disappointment obvious when he didn't give any. 

__

Operation Meteor. He'd asked Rashid if he'd heard the cryptic phrase and was sure his friend knew more than what he'd been prepared to share.

"There have been rumours," Rashid had answered with carefully chosen words, "that certain factions in the colonies have been planning action against OZ." 

"Do you think they could be building some kind of weapon?"

"Anything is possible, Master Quatre," Rashid replied, the slight edge of concern reflected in his voice seemingly directed at Quatre himself, although the blond wasn't sure why. Quatre had reached out empathically as his curiosity got the better of him; he didn't want to pry, but why the unspoken concern? To his surprise he came up against a proverbial brick wall. Rashid had managed to construct some kind of shielding against his empathy. Why? How? Quatre frowned. He knew his ability wasn't that strong, that there were certain people he couldn't 'read' but he'd never come across that problem with Rashid before. 

"Is it possible these weapons could have been sent to Earth somehow?" he had asked, attempting to rid his thoughts of his new founded suspicions. For Rashid to consciously shield against him he must know about his, Quatre's, empathic abilities. But how? Quatre had never told him – in fact very few people knew outside of his immediate family. _Stop it_, _Quatre_, he chastised himself. _You shouldn't have been prying in the first place_. 

Quatre had then noticed Rashid watching him, so had made a conscious effort not to dwell on the subject, concentrating instead on his original line of questioning. 

What he and Relena had seen must have had something to do with this Operation Meteor, or why else had her father used the phrase? "Do you mind if I utilise some of your resources to do some research of my own?" Quatre knew what the answer to his request would be, but he preferred to ask, rather than to presume. 

"Certainly, Master Quatre. What we have is ours to share."

Quatre had nodded absently, his mind already working out avenues to pursue, people to contact, his fingers closing over the invitation in his pocket. Maybe attending Relena's party tomorrow would be for the best after all– as well as ensuring she was all right after the events of the previous day, it might be an opportunity to speak again with Vice Minister Darlian. 

"What school are you attending?" The red headed girl paused then giggled, before adding, "Is there any chance it could be St Gabriel's?"

"I'm not attending school," Quatre replied, his musings interrupted by her questions. "My tutor travelled with me to Earth." 

"Oh, a tutor, how simply wonderful. And how rude of me, you've been so polite and I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Prudence. Prudence Smythe, with an e. " The red haired girl held out her hand and Quatre shook it, before glancing around the room for Relena once more. He doubted he would miss her entrance; as this was her party, all eyes would be on her as she arrived. 

"Pleased to meet you, Prudence Smythe with an 'e'." The gaggle of girls giggled again and Quatre sighed. Hopefully Relena would be here very shortly; he wasn't sure how much more of this small talk he could handle.

Bethany gave him a smile, deliberately brushing her fingers against his own as she took his now empty glass from him. "Would you like some more punch, Quatre dear?" 

Quatre inwardly cringed. He'd always found it difficult to block out strong emotions at this close range, and wondered how Bethany would react if he told her he could pick up on her unspoken desires towards him. Maybe this would be a good time to mention the fact he wasn't really interested in girls? Quatre pulled away with more force than he'd meant to, and mumbled his apologies after noticing her hurt expression.

"Give the poor boy some air," commented another girl. "Honestly, Bethany, you're as subtle as a herd of elephants." The brunette linked her arm through his, and led him over to the punch bowl before dropping her voice to a whisper. "You'll have to forgive my friends. Sometimes they can come on a bit strong. It's just so nice to finally meet a young man with both manners and good looks." She blushed. "I mean…at least you accepted Relena's invitation. Not like a certain Heero Yuy who we won't mention. I still don't understand how he could possibly do something like that to poor Relena. She was heartbroken." Her voice dropped still further and she moved closer, bringing her hand to rest between his shoulder blades. "You'd never do that to someone, would you, Mr Winner?" The girl fluttered her eyelashes. "Or may I call you Quatre? Or is there something else you'd prefer me to use?"

A familiar voice saved Quatre from the dilemma of extracting himself without seeming to be as rude as whoever this Heero was, and he heaved a sigh of relief. 

"Thank you all for coming to my party today. I'm so happy to see you all." Relena stood at the top of the staircase, every inch the perfect hostess. The blue dress she wore matched the colour of her eyes perfectly, and was set off by a simple but authentic string of pearls. 

The girl beside him shifted her arm, to Quatre's relief, as she joined in greeting the birthday girl with loud clapping and shouts of 'Happy Birthday.'

Relena seemed pleased with the attention. "Thank you, everyone. " Her happy smile drooped slightly, her gaze shifting away from the crowd towards her parents, her mother's voice rising in pitch as she chastised her husband for his planned course of action.

"Do you really have to leave now, dear?" Mrs Darlian's voice broke through the sudden uncomfortable silence in the room, and Quatre felt a pang of sympathy for his new friend. "Can't you stay just a bit longer…for Relena?"

"Father…" Relena's voice reflected her pain, and Quatre instinctively began moving towards her, knowing she would need a sympathetic ear once her father left. 

Mr Darlian's response had the same tone of regret he'd used in the shuttle two days ago. "I'm sorry Relena…but…"

Relena put on a brave face. "Don't be, Father. I'm no longer a child. I understand you are only doing what you have to." She leaned over the railing and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, the gesture of affection expressing more than her words could. 

"Relena…" her father repeated, the action flustering him to such a degree that he temporarily lost his grip on the thin document case clasped under his left arm. Several photographs slid from the case, scattering as they landed on the ground at the bottom of the stairs. Relena's eyes widened even as Quatre stepped forward quickly to help the Vice Minister retrieve them. 

Four camera stills, each taken at different angles, but there was no mistaking they were of the same thing. At first glance they seemed to be contrails of objects entering orbit. Quatre frowned. Could they be of the shooting star he and Relena had seen two days ago? 

The noise of the room had resumed its normal level again but the news bulletin blasting from the small radio cut still cut through the background chatter. The man sitting at the small table leaned over and adjusted the volume as the newscaster continued his report. "According to an announcement by the military, the four meteors expected to hit the Earth have all burnt up upon entry. The theory that they were manned spacecraft has been revealed to be a hoax. Now for other news…"

Quatre's eye caught a familiar phrase written on the header of a document attached to one of the photos, and he nearly dropped them in his surprise. Operation Meteor. 

__

Four meteors? If the 'meteor' they'd seen was in reality a manned spacecraft, did that mean the others were too? Mr Darlian retrieved the photographs quickly, thanked Quatre, then left the room, after giving his wife a quick peck on the cheek.

Relena was still standing on the bottom step, her eyes wide as she whispered something to herself. Quatre strained to hear but couldn't quite make out her words. "Relena," he asked. "Are you all right?" 

Bethany, Prudence and the girl who had cornered him before Relena's arrival, moved as one to greet their friend before she could reply. "Relena, why didn't you tell us you made a new friend."

"Relena, he's so cute, how could hold out on us like that?"

"Relena, what a beautiful dress. And I love the way your earrings match your eyes. Did you pick them out yourself?"

Didn't these girls have any depth at all? Even without utilising his abilities Quatre could see Relena's confusion and unhappiness, yet all they were worried about were the things which really didn't matter. Quatre coughed, and they giggled and blushed. "Oh Quatre," exclaimed the brunette. "I didn't see you standing there; you must think I'm so awful talking about you like that."

Relena sighed. "I'm sure he can cope, Daphne. Now if you don't mind I'd like to talk to him." The girls nodded, but made no attempt to move. Relena sighed again. "In private. "

"Sure, Relena." Bethany nodded and grinned, then gestured for her friends to follow her. "Let's go organise the presents and the cake, girls."

"Sorry, Relena." Prudence sounded anything but repentant, as she gave her friend a smile which suggested she had known full well that he'd been listening as they'd given their opinions of him. Daphne's earlier observation hadn't been too far off. _Subtle as a herd of elephants. _The only error she'd made was not including herself in the statement. 

"See you later, Quatre." Daphne winked at him, deliberately brushing against him before she followed her friends as they went to mingle with the other guests. 

"I'm sorry about that, Quatre," Relena apologised. "They mean well you know. It's just that…"

"It's all right, Relena," Quatre reassured her. "I have sisters, I know what girls can be like." He blushed, realising his error. "Present company excluded of course."

She smiled. "I hope so. I'd like to think I would have more sense, at least where boys are concerned. "Her tone changed, as she glanced around the small courtyard, making sure her friends were out of earshot. "Would you like to sit for a while? There's something I think we both would like to discuss."

Quatre nodded. "Certainly," he agreed. "There's a free table over in the corner. Would you like me to get you some punch?" 

"That would be lovely, thank you." She grinned. "Just watch out for the vultures." 

He matched her grin, and gave a mock shudder. "Oh I intend to; once was more than enough." Quatre fetched the two glasses of fruit drink quickly; he wasn't about to allow the terrible trio another chance to move in for the kill, and joined Relena at the small table. 

They sat, sipping their drinks in silence for a few minutes while Quatre decided the best way to broach the topic. "Did you get home all right the other day?" he asked in the finish. Sometimes it was easier to approach a difficult conversation sideways rather than directly. 

Relena nodded, her fingers gripping the sides of her glass tightly. She took another sip, then placed it on the white tablecloth, the moisture from the ice seeping through the crystal, leaving a damp patch on the fabric. Her words were hesitant but clear. "Can I ask some advice…on a…. hypothetical problem?"

"Please do." He waited patiently, sensing her struggle to put her thoughts into the right words, suspecting that whatever this 'problem' was, it wasn't quite as hypothetical as she wanted him to believe.

"If you knew that that meteor we saw the other day, wasn't really a meteor, but a manned spacecraft of some sort…"

Quatre interrupted her, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. "What makes you so sure it wasn't a meteor?"

She gave him a strange look, her brow creasing into a small frown, and continued as though he hadn't spoken. "What if you'd met the pilot, and knew who he was…would you try and protect him, or would you go to the authorities?" Her voice dropped to the whisper. "What if he'd threatened to kill you?" Relena paused, glancing around the room to make sure she hadn't been overheard. "Keeping in mind this is all hypothetical of course."

"Of course." She'd met the pilot and he'd threatened to kill her? Allah, he _knew_ he should have accompanied her home. She was lucky he'd only threatened her; whatever his mission parameter's were, if Quatre's suspicions about Operation Meteor were correct, she had been in more danger than she probably realised. Quatre remembered the strange mixture of emotions he'd picked up from the pilot on the flight through the Earth's atmosphere. _Power, invulnerability, shock, followed by blackness._ Had the pilot crash-landed, before Relena found him? "Do you perceive this…pilot as a threat to your life? Hypothetically of course."

Relena shook her head quickly, denying the idea with her action, but he could sense the mixed emotions radiating from her. The actions and words of this pilot had confused her, but yet she was obviously fascinated by him. "He…He wouldn't hurt me. I just know he wouldn't. But I guess it's important to him that he completes his mission." She grabbed his hand, holding it tightly in hers, her tone suddenly deadly serious. "Quatre, what do you know about Operation Meteor?"

"Operation Meteor?" Quatre repeated the words slowly, trying to piece together a coherent answer. "Not much," he admitted. "But…I'd like to know more. If there is more to know…hypothetically of course." If she wasn't going to place all her cards on the table, neither was he. Relena knew more than she was letting on; hopefully if she thought he had information to trade, she might feel more inclined to part with the rest of what she'd learnt. 

Relena stared at him, pulled her hand away, then let out a small laugh. "Touche. So you don't believe those lies about the so called meteors either?"

Quatre shook his head. "No, I don't. " He decided to go out on a limb, to trust her with a small amount of information. After all it seemed that if they pooled their resources it might be beneficial for both of them. "I believe they are some kind of space craft, as the rumours suggest." He matched her gaze, attempting to convince her of the seriousness of the situation. "Do you know where the pilot is now? I'd very much like to meet him." _I feel a connection to him, somehow, but I'm not sure why. _The empathic communication had been weird to say the least, and he knew he wouldn't be able to rest until he found the answers to the questions he was seeking. 

Relena shook her head sadly. "I invited him to my party, but he ripped up my invitation." Her voice shook. "He wiped my tears, but then threatened to kill me. Quatre, what kind of person is he?"

"You gave him an invitation to your party?" Quatre couldn't keep the incredulous tone out of his voice. What on earth had she been thinking? Feeling concern for this mysterious pilot was one thing, even being fascinated by him. That he could understand, in the light of what he'd experienced himself. But inviting him to her party? Did she even realise the danger she could be exposing herself to?

"Relena, come and blow out your candles!" Prudence's shrill tone interrupted their conversation, the other guests focusing their attention on them, and Relena gave him an apologetic smile. 

"We'll talk later, okay?" She rose to her feet, moving to take her place by the table her friends had set up in her honour. Quatre followed slowly, his mind trying to digest the new information he'd been given. _So the pilot has survived and is in the area? Will I be able to find him?_

"I mean…at least you accepted Relena's invitation. Not like a certain Heero Yuy who we won't mention. I still don't understand how he could possibly do something like that to poor Relena. She was heartbroken." Heero Yuy? Could that be the pilot's name?

He glanced over at Relena, leaning over the richly decorated cake, as her friends tried to encourage her to play the birthday girl. She was hiding her pain extremely well; the incident with Heero, if that was his even his real name, had obviously shaken her considerably. _She's a brave girl_, he thought. _Even if she is lacking somewhat in common sense. _

"Blow out the candles, Relena,"

"Go on Relena, blow them out and make a wish," Bethany and Daphne urged her, and Relena gave them a smile in return, playing the part of the hostess as though she was born to the role. 

"Excuse me," a blond boy mumbled as he pushed past Quatre in his eagerness to reach the table. He was dressed in an expensive white tux - a rose in his buttonhole, and a small black bow tie completing the ensemble. The large bouquet of flowers in his arms was shedding fronds of greenery as he rushed towards Relena and attempted to catch his breath. "I've made it," he exclaimed. "Happy birthday, Relena." The boy glanced around the room, his mouth turning up in a smirk of triumph. "So Heero isn't here, after all. Maybe that was him I saw after all."

__

Heero?

"Heero?" Relena stopped, her eyes shining in excitement. "Ken, did you see Heero? Please, you have to tell me."

Ken's smirk grew wider. "You'll not going to believe this, but…I saw him on the Coastal Road…and he was driving an ambulance." 

"An ambulance?" pondered Relena aloud. "It must be him!" Her voice took on a sense of urgency, and Quatre attempted to move closer, to prevent her from taking the action he suspected she was about to. Daphne smiled at him, pulling him towards her as he brushed past her, totally misinterpreting his intentions. 

"Which way was the ambulance heading?" Relena couldn't seriously be considering going after Heero. Couldn't she see what danger she could be exposing herself to? If he was on some kind of mission and he perceived her as a threat…Quatre had heard enough about the tendencies of the military mindset from his father's lectures regarding the necessity of pacifism to know he couldn't let her do what she was obviously planning to. 

Ken continued his story, totally unaware of the reaction it was creating. "I think it was heading towards the military port."

__

Military port? Relena…no! Quatre nearly spoke the words aloud in his frustration. Daphne tightened her grip on him, and her two friends moved in to prevent his escape. 

"I have to go. Enjoy the party. I'll be back soon." Relena made her way towards the exit, ignoring the worried, puzzled looks of her family and friends. 

"Do you want me to give you a ride?" Ken asked, but Relena shook her head. His face fell – this wasn't the reaction he had been expecting. _You fool, all you've done is pushed her in the direction you didn't want her to go. _Couldn't the idiot see the effect his words had had on her? If he'd been expecting gratitude for his revelation he really didn't have a clue as to her current infatuation with the mysterious Heero Yuy. 

"No!," she exclaimed, then stopped and modified her statement as she realised how harsh it sounded. "I'm going alone. Now if you'll excuse me." Her eyes met Quatre's and she shot him a quick look of apology before leaving. 

Quatre groaned, absently aware of Mrs Darlian's words as he attempted to rid himself of his newly acquired 'fan club'. "Relena, stop! What's wrong with her? I've never seen her react like this before."

"Girls, I need to go, _now!"_ Daphne removed her arm, and glared at him with a annoyed pout, but he ignored her, intent on reaching Relena before she followed a course of action she might regret.

Quatre skidded to a halt at the front gate of Relena's house, watching her pink limousine carry her into what could only be a dangerous confrontation. He cursed silently under his breath, frustrated that he hadn't been able to stop her. 

__

Whoever you are, Heero, you've certainly made an impression on her. 

His thoughts went back to the shuttle once more. What on earth was Operation Meteor? Whatever it was, the cryptic codeword probably could lead to answers that could help explain everything that had happened. He only hoped he could find out in time to help Relena before she got in over her head. 

Quatre sighed, and traipsed back towards the house, debating his next course of action. _I wonder if there's a vehicle I could borrow to go after her?_

************

The underwater suits moved cautiously as they extended grappling irons to surround the object lying face down on the ocean floor. Duo watched from a distance, waiting for the right time to move. In the meantime, it might be fun to observe these new craft in action; take note of some specs to pass on to Howard. The red Cancer seemed to be running the show – Duo wondered if they knew he' d hacked into their communications frequency. _Nah, probably not._ Those guys didn't seem to notice stuff like that, which was a shame, at least from their point of view. He grinned. Yep, watch and learn. _Hope you appreciate what I'm doing here for you, old man. _

A loud noise permeated the small cockpit and he adjusted the volume control quickly. _Shit, what was that?_ Duo shook his head, trying to get rid of the ringing in his ears that had resulted from the unexpected cacophony. _Some kind of alarm, maybe? _

This was his signal to move. _Sorry guys, shows over, make way for Shinigami; it's time for the good guys to take charge._ He powered up the beam scythe, and then headed towards the Ozzies to join in the fun. 

"What's that light?" 

"Enemy attack, we're under enemy attack." Duo groaned. What was it with that phrase? _Seems to be the only one they freaking know._ By the time he'd finished his mission, it would be part of the Ozzie phrasebook for every occasion. Catch phrase number two – what to yell when you are attacked by a Gundam. 

Both craft turned to attack him, but Duo sliced one in half quickly, not giving it the chance to go on the offensive. The other came to a sudden halt, and then fired missiles in his direction, which Deathscythe dodged effortlessly before sending the guy to follow his companion to a watery grave. "Play nice, guys," Duo chastised. "Or I might have to teach you some manners." 

The radio crackled again, the tinny voice tinged with a mixture of awe and fear. "This isn't possible; a thermal blade weapon can't be used under water. Damn it!"

__

Nope, but this isn't your average thermal blade weapon, thought Duo smugly. _You ain't seen nothing yet; I'm only just warming up._

Duo lurched forward in his seat, as something hard rammed into his Gundam. "Damn, what the hell was that?" He hit the thrusters, gundanium alloy creaking under the strain, but whatever had Scythe wasn't ready to give up that easily. The sneaky bastard had him pinned between its pinchers, locked in what was obviously presumed to be a death grip.

Hah, more than one way to deal with this. Duo deliberately dropped his beam scythe, temporarily powered down the Gundam, and played dead, allowing his suit to float motionless. He stifled a laugh as he heard the triumphant report over the radio. _Geez, they fall for it every time. _

"I've defeated it, Lt Zechs."

"Zechs, huh? So that's your name. I'll remember that for later. No one messes with my Gundam." Deathscythe returned to life, firing his buster shield at the same moment - the remains of the Cancer, which a few seconds before had thought itself victorious, sinking to the seabed before the pilot had even registered that the tables had been turned.

Duo winced, rubbing his head as he checked his scanners to see what had gotten the other pilots' attention. _Note to self – not a good idea to fire up power and launch buster shield in one hit. Recoil's a bitch. _

"So that's what they were searching for," he noted aloud, slowing his descent, and hovering over the object face down on the ocean floor. What the hell? Nah, it couldn't be. Duo moved nearer, to check that the information his sensors were picking up were correct. "Shit, it's identical to mine, right down to the position of the self destruct. " Another Gundam? But G hadn't mentioned there were any other Gundams. Duo smirked. Sneaky bastard – he shouldn't really be surprised by anything to do with that guy by now. 

Should I let it self destruct or..? "Nah, I won't destroy it. Why waste a perfectly good supply of spare parts?" Duo switched off the beam, then used the scythe to disable the self-destruct button. 

"Time to go, before the bad guys decide to arrive, with friends." Deathscythe lifted the other Gundam into his arms like an injured child, then Duo headed off. Lugging this other Gundam was going to slow him down – unless he let good old Mother Nature lend a hand. He glanced at his watch, remembering the research he'd done on the tides in the area before he'd arrived. _Yep, this should all work out rather nicely,_ he thought. 

************

The snow was rapidly thickening as Trowa wended his way along the highway north from Spain into Andorra. The road through the mountains was treacherous enough in the heavy vehicle he had procured for transporting his Gundam; the rapid onset of nightfall in conjunction with the precipitation was impairing visibility and thus making the trek even more hazardous. A few more miles should bring him closer to a town, if he could make it far enough. Beyond that, the young soldier was desperately looking forward to a hot meal and a bed other than the front seat of his truck.

Grumbling and lurching reluctantly as Trowa shifted gears, the vehicle slowed to a near crawl while its driver approached each new turn of the road with caution. Bloated, fluffy flakes flew past Trowa's field of view, illuminated in the headlights. If it were not for the road below, it would be easy to mistake the diverging stream of brilliant white flecks zooming past as stars against the inky blackness of space. But this was Earth, and this was snow. 

Trowa sighed in impatience at his now sluggish progress; he'd been on the road for hours now, trying to find a suitable place to rest and hide his truck. Each of the past few nights had been spent eating little better than cold field rations and huddling in a thin blanket in his truck. _I'm getting soft_, he chided himself, remembering how he'd once taken for granted the lack of comfort in his life. Working for the Barton Foundation, he had become pleasantly accustomed to a comfortable bed and regular, hot meals.

__

If only I'd had more time to plan this voyage. Again he found himself replaying the rapid string of events that had led him to this place - this road late at night, in the snow, back on Earth. Earth, the planet he'd forsaken... But, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Once he'd learned what the original bearer of his name had intended, and had had the epiphany that led him to pilot the Gundam, everything had happened so quickly. In less than twenty-four hours he'd been leaving L3, headed back to Earth. His current priority was to find a good cover for himself, and perhaps the ability to indulge in the basic luxuries of hot food, a bed, and plumbing.

Leaning forward and peering into the snow-dappled darkness, Trowa slowed his vehicle further. Despite his best intentions, it looked as though he would be stuck in the truck again tonight, but first he needed convenient place to park. Dense forest lined the sides of the roadway so he sought signs of a trail leading off the main road. The snow would be, in a way, an advantage. In only a few hours, all signs of his tire tracks would be obliterated.

Then he saw it. Just as he crested a rise and saw the glow of the town on the horizon bathing the underbelly of the low clouds in a muted orange hue, he also spied the peaked tent. Its shape was highlighted dramatically by the twin spotlights angled to shine up into the night, their paths accentuated by the dense flurry of snowflakes that passed through the twin beams.

__

A circus. 

A slow smile spread unbidden across Trowa's lips as the potential of this discovery set in, his eyes scanning the terrain alongside the highway in earnest, looking for any means of taking his truck into cover. Presently, he found a track leading off into the woods, close to the circus ahead, but not too close. Taking this route, the truck shuddered and protested the more uneven terrain under its bulk. Eventually, he came upon a thinning of the trees and guided the truck deeper into the wilderness, through the patchy forest until he came to a clearing that would be out of view from either road.

Trowa turned the key in the ignition to shut off the motor, and shivered in anticipation of the outside cold seeping into the cabin, banishing the warmth of the truck's heater; and watching as the light from the headlights gently faded to nothing. All was silent and dark. Trowa shrugged on his battered flight jacket, pulled on a pair of woollen gloves, and fumbled in the glove compartment for a flashlight before grabbing his bag and kicking open the heavy door of the truck and sliding to the ground. He sank into the snow up to mid-calf and wished he had thought to obtain a sturdier, taller pair of boots. Turning he reached up and closed the door with a muted bang.

Flicking on his hand torch, he squinted at his surroundings. The truck would be difficult to find; he spotted no convenient landmarks puncturing the heavy, obscuring coverage of snow. Dropping his duffel bag, he rummaged through it quickly, grabbing his handheld computer. Holding the device under the shelter of his body he switched on the power to call up a GPS reading. Saving that data, he closed the device, slid it back into his bag, and stood.

In the darkness, aided by his flashlight, he gave each of the ropes securing the tarp over his precious cargo a careful examination before heading off at a jog, retracing the tire tracks of his truck before they became hidden by the precipitation. Once back to the main thoroughfare, he turned in the direction of the circus tent, orienting on the beams from the twin spotlights. He estimated it was about two miles away. Turning up the collar of his jacket and ducking his head into that shelter, Trowa began walking at a brisk pace, alternating hands between his torch and the warmth of a pocket.

It was strange to be back on Earth in a snowstorm. The silent crescendo of the falling flakes, broken only by the crunching of his footsteps in the thick powder, was unnaturally still after having been accustomed to the continual vibrations and whines of life aboard a space colony. Even on the most quiet of evenings in space, one could always hear the vague background thrum of the gravity generators and the air scrubbers.

__

A circus, he repeated to himself, while experiencing a brief surge of anticipation. He was confident that with his acrobatic skills he'd be able to fit in easily - and even if they didn't need a performer, he could do maintenance on vehicles and associated machinery. The life of a travelling performer would be a good cover for him in the execution of his mission on Earth; being able to relocate every few days would be highly beneficial. 

As his chilly journey brought him closer to the main pavilion of the circus, the silence of the snowy evening gave way to the thin, whimsical strains of the circus music and the intermittent swelling of the audience's applause. After a time, Trowa finally came to an unencumbered view of the sprawling campus of tents and trailers. He paused momentarily and switched off his torch, its feeble illumination now rendered unnecessary. He stood quietly for a moment, his breath condensing into small wispy clouds as he began to shiver in earnest, his lack of motion allowing the frigid air to permeate the thin barrier of his jacket. The gentle shroud of snow draped over the graceful peaks of the circus tents and the chubby humps of the troupe's trailers, while soft light spilled from partly open tent flaps, casting sharp triangles of golden light across the flawless, white surface. The warmth of that light and the sounds of the performance beckoned to the weary soldier, promising him comfort and respite from the cold mountain night.

Trowa made his way behind the central pavilion, searching for a performers' entrance. Ducking through a promising looking opening, he was met by a burly fellow in a yellow leotard.

"No spectators are allowed back here. Are you lost?" The man's voice was an intimidating growl, but Trowa remained unruffled.

"I'm looking for a job," he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. "Where can I find the Ringmaster?"

The big man grunted, casting a skeptical eye over the slender boy, and shoved his thumb toward a curtained opening within the tent. "He's in there."

"Thank you." Trowa nodded his gratitude and moved off to the side to drop his bag, remove his coat and gloves, and shake the snow from his hair. He retrieved a copy of his quickly thrown together resume before going in search of the Ringmaster.

The Ringmaster was typically showy in both his grooming and attire, his brilliant red jacket and dramatic widow's peak serving to identify him immediately to Trowa as he approached the older man. Standing in conversation with another near a pair of cages containing lions, he looked up as Trowa walked over.

"Yes?" he inquired with a frown, his eyes running up and down Trowa, evaluating the newcomer.

"I'd like to join the circus, as a performer." He spoke to the Ringmaster but found his gaze being commanded by the mature male lion in the cage nearby. The powerful beast shifted restlessly in its small cage, growling. Trowa felt a surge of pity for the large cat. _Poor thing... you're so far from home. I bet you don't like the cold._

Observing Trowa's distraction the man's frown deepened. "You want to join? You have any experience?" The youth offered the man his resume, meeting the man's eyes evenly. Taking the paper from Trowa he glanced at it briefly before replying in an annoyed voice, "This doesn't tell me anything... mobile suit maintenance and repair?" While the man continued his perusal, muttering under his breath, the boy looked again to the lion, fascinated by the creature's feral grace and the indomitable spirit in his eyes.

Mostly ignoring the Ringmaster now, Trowa stepped closer the lion's cage, extending his hand through the bars in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture of friendship.

"Huh? Wha..." the man managed while the lion crouched in an aggressive posture, snarling.

__

It's okay. I'm a friend, was the sentiment Trowa willed into his voice as he spoke softly to the large cat, "Hello..." The beast hesitated, meeting Trowa's eyes, and relaxed. With a low huff, he padded close and leaned against the bars, permitting Trowa to sink his hand into the dense warmth of the animal's fur.

The wonder the young soldier experienced never reached his face, but rather was conveyed through the reverent way in which he stroked the rough fur over the lion's shoulders. Having come to stand next to Trowa, the Ringmaster spoke with a degree of awe in his voice. "How did you do that?" he whispered. The lion had closed his eyes in obvious pleasure, leaning into the movements of Trowa's hand.

Briefly, memories of injured birds Trowa had aided, wild dogs he'd fed, and an orphaned squirrel he'd raised passed through the boy's mind. "Animals are true to their feelings," he explained. "If you don't present yourself as a threat, they won't harm you or be afraid."

"Well, kid, you're hired. You can at least help take care of the animals, and we'll see if you have any other talents."

Before Trowa could answer, a new voice entered the exchange, a female voice. "Can he work with me? Since Miguel left, I've needed a replacement for the knife act."

"Think you can stand still while Catherine tosses knives at you?" The Ringmaster addressed Trowa.

"Yes," Trowa accepted with an inclination of his head, and turned to face the slight girl with bountiful red curls dancing about her smiling face. _Catherine,_ he repeated the name to himself to make certain he'd remember it.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Catherine exclaimed happily, grabbing his arm in her enthusiasm. She leaned closer to him and confided, "I have very good aim, so don't be scared." Trowa shrugged, mystified by the friendliness of the brightly garbed girl. "You must be half frozen," she continued. "Why don't you come to my trailer - I have a pot of soup on the stove and a spare room... though to call it a room is a bit of an overstatement."

Trowa allowed himself to be led away, pausing only to collect his belongings. Following the girl as she picked her way delicately through the snow, Trowa wondered at her quick acceptance of him, not just as her performance partner, but also as a guest in her home. Still, she had offered him the two things he desired most on this inclement evening. She led him into the small trailer, flicking on the lights illuminating the main living area, which consisted of a small sofa, kitchenette and tiny dining table. A large pot simmered on the stove as she moved toward it while Trowa removed his outerwear and boots, arranging them neatly by the door.

"Sorry it's so cold in here," Catherine apologised as she collected a bowl from a cupboard. "Fortunately, it doesn't take long to warm up." Spooning a generous helping of a thick brown liquid into the bowl, she set it on the table. "I hope you like it - it's my own recipe." Turning, she grabbed a spoon and a handful of paper napkins, placing them on the table as well. "I'm just going to go change and put extra blankets on my spare bed. Make yourself comfortable, and help yourself to anything in the kitchen." She moved to the small hall at the back of the room before turning and speaking again, "I'm sorry, I've been rude. My name is Catherine Bloom, just call me Cathy if you want."

"Thank you, Cathy. I'm called Trowa. Trowa Barton."

"Okay, Trowa, it's nice to meet you. I hope you like it here with us. It's exciting to have a new member join the family!" She grinned enthusiastically before excusing herself again and leaving Trowa alone with the soup.

Despite his hunger, Trowa approached the bowl with some trepidation. It smelled odd. _Don't be daft. It isn't like she's trying to poison you._ He settled at the table and prodded the concoction gingerly with the spoon. He recognised potatoes and some sort of meat, along with barley, tomatoes, and green olives. _Olives? What cuisine is this?_ Shrugging, he began to eat.

The soup was... Trowa's brain struggled to identify any of the other flavours that constituted the spicing of the unique substance in his bowl. He wasn't certain it was an entirely pleasant combination. But not being in a position to be finicky, he ate it. Besides, the soup was hot.

************

Duo hauled himself over the side of the wharf, just in time to see a cute guy dressed in spandex and a green tank-top draw a gun on a good looking blonde girl. _Spandex in this weather?_ he wondered. _You have got to be kidding_. 

The guy's finger tightened around the trigger. Shit, he must be serious. Time to do the knight in shining armour impression, and save the day. Duo aimed carefully for the upper arm, his bullet hitting its mark with practiced ease. 

"Heero!" screamed the blonde, as the dark haired boy landed in an undignified heap, face down on the deck. She buried her face in her hands, seemingly unable to cope with the scene unfolding in front of her.

Hold up. Heero? Why the hell was she screaming over the guy he'd just taken out. It didn't make sense. 

The guy in question, Heero, rose to his feet slowly, using his left hand to put pressure on where Duo's bullet had grazed him. 

"Are you okay, lady?" Duo asked, as he pulled himself into an upright position. Heero glared at him, and the girl moved closer to the injured boy, leaning in to check he was okay. 

Heero used the distraction to dive for the gun he'd dropped as he'd taken the fall, but Duo acted quickly, firing his own weapon to shift it out of reach. 

"Isn't the one warning good enough for you? Take the hint already, and we won't have to take this round into overtime." What the hell did it take to convince this guy? Did he have some kind of death wish or something?

To Duo's amazement the blonde positioned herself in front of the guy who'd just been about to kill her, and used her body as a shield. "That's enough," she chastised. "Can't you see he's hurt?" She knelt beside Heero, ripped several strips of fabric from her expensive looking dress, and began bandaging his arm.

Yep, this was majorly weird, all right. Time to inform her of a few facts. "Huh, you call this gratitude?" She glared at him, and Duo decided to try another tact, though he doubted she'd listen to anything resembling common sense at this stage of whatever crazy game these two were playing. "I hate to break it to you, lady, but I'm not the bad guy here – he is."

Nah, he didn't think she'd be convinced and her decision to ignore his reasoning confirmed it. _Damn, what was that? _Duo turned at the sudden noise to see the two Gundams breaking the surface like a pair of weird carnival floats. He glanced at his watch and frowned. "Oops. Guess I miscalculated the hide tide ever so slightly."

No way could he let these civilians see this – it would jeopardise his mission, to say nothing of placing them in more danger than they were in already. He reached inside his pocket, holding the retrieved flare high in his left hand, lighting it quickly to partially blind them and hopefully limit their knowledge of what was happening. "I can't let you see this, lady. I haven't a clue what's going on here, but you need to go home, for your own safety."

She shielded her eyes against the glare with one hand after glancing toward Heero as he did the same. Duo frowned – for some reason he suspected that had been way too easy, at least where this Heero guy was concerned. A second later his suspicions were confirmed. 

Heero was on his feet, and diving for a nearby crane before Duo even had time to register he was on the move. What the hell were those torpedos doing there? _You idiot, this is probably what you interrupted in the first place. _The other boy knew about the existence of the torpedos because he was probably responsible for them being there. The sling acting as temporary home to the torpedos swayed dangerously from side to side, as Heero took shelter behind the three missiles, using them as a shield against Duo's bullets. 

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're playing at?" Duo hoped the crane supporting its precious cargo would hold – if it didn't and they blew they could be in a shit load of trouble.

Heero glanced up, giving him another glare. _Shit, what the hell is wrong with you? _"That's _my_ mobile suit," he told Duo before bringing his fist down on what could only be the timing mechanism.

"Your mobile suit? What the hell?" Duo attempted to pick his mouth off the floor; he didn't have time to speculate now, not with Heero following the missiles into the water. 

Heero went limp, his final whispered words carried by the sudden wind, before he hit the surf with a loud splash. "Mission…complete."

The missiles exploded, displacing water in a large radius in a weird imitation of an atomic mushroom cloud. Duo groaned, as the suits he'd carefully gotten this far sunk again into the watery depths. Then he paused, his mind putting two and two together and coming up with six. "Oh shit, he knows the tolerance level of Gundanium." Heero must have known exactly what he was doing when he set those charges. "He _must _be the other suit's pilot."

Unable to give Duo the answers needed, Heero instead floated limply face down in the water – the other pilot couldn't help but shudder as he thought of the calm way in which the dark haired boy had accepted what he obviously thought was the only way to accomplish his 'mission'.

The blonde girl edged closer to the edge of the wharf, her eyes wide as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. "Who are you people?" she whispered. 

************

[1] I have had but a single fencing lesson in my entire life, and remember very little of it. I've done the best I can using various online resources to work out the terms that might make sense in this duel, so I hope it works! (Raletha)

************

__

~to be continued

************

Next on 'Domino'

EPISODE THREE – WORST CASE SCENARIO

Duo aids Heero in escaping an Alliance hospital, but can the two young pilots learn to become allies? Relena tries to learn more about the mysterious Heero Yuy while Quatre has his first encounter with a Gundam pilot. With the assistance of the Maguanac Corps, Quatre furthers his investigation of the enigmatic Operation Meteor. Meanwhile, Trowa faces his worst case scenario during an attack on a mobile suit factory in Corsica.

************


	4. Episode Three

"Domino" Episode 3

A Gundam Wing AU by Anne and Raletha

Feedback:

Anne: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

Raletha: geekpuella @ yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. We are not making any money from this, though we do admit to having fun and losing a lot of sleep. 

Summary: Duo aids Heero in escaping an Alliance hospital, but can the two young pilots learn to become allies? Relena tries to learn more about the mysterious Heero Yuy while Quatre has his first encounter with a Gundam pilot. With the assistance of the Maguanac Corps, Quatre furthers his investigation of the enigmatic Operation Meteor. Meanwhile, Trowa faces his worst case scenario during an attack on a mobile suit factory in Corsica.

Rating: PG13

Pairings: Eventual 3x4x3, 1x2x1.

Warnings: mechanical violence, language, drama, action, angst, violence

Archives:

Anne: http://www.angelfire.com/ab7/shadesandechoes/domino.html

Raletha: http://www.angelfire.com/gundam/serendipity/Domino/domindex.html

Notes: Just a reminder, the premise of this canon based AU is answering the question, "What if Quatre had made a different decision and not become Sandrock's pilot?"

************

Opening Credits

Reclined casually on a sofa in the Domino green room, Trowa holds a sheaf of papers. As he reads through them, a slow smirk creeps across his face. Without looking up from his perusal he calls out, "Cat, come and see what I found!"

Presently Quatre and Duo enter the room. Curious, they both go to read over Trowa's shoulder with Quatre wrapping his arms around his lover's shoulders and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Here," Trowa says, turning his head to meet Quatre's lips briefly, and handing him the papers. "Start at the beginning. Things are looking up for us after all - eventually."

Quatre takes the papers and begins reading while Trowa watches him. Eyes growing wide, he becomes absorbed in the page. Meanwhile, a sulky frown grows across Duo's features.

"I see what you mean by _up_..." Quatre trails off turning a page, a smug smile on his face.

The door opens abruptly and Heero enters. "Guys, they're on their way."

"Oops!" Startled, Quatre shoves the papers into Duo's hands before the braided pilot can object. Grabbing Trowa's hand, Quatre pulls Trowa to his feet. After whispering something into Trowa's ear, the two leave together, grinning.

"Practice makes perfect." Trowa is heard to say as they disappear down the hall.

Duo fixes a perturbed glare on Heero that makes even the dark haired pilot flinch. "Look at this!" He pushes the sheaf of papers under Heero's nose.

"What is it?"

"Why the hell do they always get the fun? What about us? Is it too much to ask that..."

Duo's tirade is broken off as the authors enter the green room. Anne clears her throat, pointedly glaring at Duo. "Not again, Duo." She shakes her head in a disappointment. "You know, I need someone to look after the twins this weekend..."

Duo blanches. "It wasn't me this time, I swear! Trowa did it..."

"Give me that..." Raletha tears the papers from Heero's hand receiving a Death Glare (tm) in response.

"Trowa?" Anne asks, incredulous. She's answered by Duo's best innocent look and a vigorous nodding of his head.

"That would explain why they were so keen to get home. This is the unfinished script for our first side fic." Raletha grimaces. [1]

Anne glances at the script briefly and laughs, "We probably won't be seeing those two for a while now." 

In an attempt to change the focus of the conversation, Duo speaks again, "Hey, wasn't Bast supposed to be here by now? And where're Wufei and Relena?"

As if on cue, the door opens again, admitting one feline headed Egyptian goddess in a black trench coat and dark glasses. "Sorry I'm late," Bast speaks, removing her coat and glasses. "You know how it can be... "

Wufei and Relena enter with Wufei holding a stack of plates while Relena smiles, carrying a cake. Elegant Chinese characters adorn the surface of the cake. "Wufei helped me decorate it," she enthuses. "It says, 'Thank you for the beta reading, Lady Bast!'"

************

~previously~

Quatre skidded to a halt at the front gate of Relena's house, watching her pink limousine carry her into what could only be a dangerous confrontation. He cursed silently under his breath, frustrated that he hadn't been able to stop her. 

__

Whoever you are, Heero, you've certainly made an impression on her. 

His thoughts went back to the shuttle once more. What on earth was Operation Meteor? Whatever it was, the cryptic codeword probably could lead to answers that could help explain everything that had happened. He only hoped he could find out in time to help Relena before she got in over her head. 

Quatre sighed, and traipsed back towards the house, debating his next course of action. _I wonder if there's a vehicle I could borrow to go after her?_

************

The human race has ventured out from the Earth, seeking to build a future in the space colonies. But under the banner of justice and peace, the United Earth Sphere Alliance has seized control of these colonies, using its superior military power. 

It is the year After Colony 195.

However, a few colonists rebel against this oppression and send new weapons to the Earth, disguised as shooting stars. But the Alliance has discovered the existence of Operation Meteor…

************

EPISODE THREE – WORST CASE SCENARIO

************

His consciousness resolved to bright light behind closed eyelids, a hard surface beneath his back, and the muted _plink_ of liquid slowly dripping into a puddle.

__

I'm still alive, Heero realised; he wasn't sure if he were pleased or not. For now, it was merely an observation. Since he was alive, he had a mission to complete. The Gundam. Had it been destroyed, or had that newcomer managed to foil the attempt?

Spread-eagled on the hard surface, Heero tried to raise an arm. It moved only a few millimetres before being halted by what felt like a heavy, padded restraint. _I've been captured._

Directing his attention to his body, Heero carefully attended to his breathing and heart rate, focusing on those two rhythms to keep them steady and unchanged. Slowly, he considered each part of himself: his feet, his legs, his pelvis, abdomen, and ribs; his arms, hands, his shoulders, neck, and head. He ached, or rather his bones ached, indicating numerous minor fractures. Muscles felt bruised and strained in many places, and the bullet wounds on his arm and thigh throbbed dully. That, he concluded, must be the source of the dripping. Against his skin, he could feel several biosensors. Both arms and legs were restrained.

Still, he was functioning well within parameters. He knew his body could take far more abuse than this before it failed him. _That's one thing I can thank J for._

With care, Heero cracked one eyelid open, waiting patiently for his vision to focus on the revealed sliver of his surrounding. Other senses began to resolve with more fidelity - the sterile smell, the thrumming and muted beeping of electronics, and the muffled sound of voices from somewhere above and behind him provided him with several clues. _I'm in a hospital_, he concluded. That girl, Relena Darlian, she had to be partly responsible for his being here. _I should have killed her when I had the chance._

But, she was the least of his concerns at the present. Heero scanned his memory for nearby and local hospitals. _This must be the Alliance Military Hospital._ Considering that he must be in an ICU unit, given the extent of his injuries, it must be building three. He risked opening both eyes, glancing around the room. A high ceiling and a metal stairway, combined with the murmuring of voices told him this was some kind of observation theatre. _I'm on the fiftieth floor._

He began to pull one arm against the restraints. It held firm against the table, but Heero judged that it would give way before his bones did, and he possessed the strength to break it. His flesh was another matter, but it would heal in time. He silently thanked J again for having given him the means by which to succeed in this situation. Though, an even quieter part of his mind questioned that gratitude; Heero ignored it.

The hiss of static and the blinking of a vid monitor next to the table he was on caught his attention. Once the static cleared, he made out the face of the boy from the wharf, the one who'd been trying to recover Wing. The boy motioned to Heero to remain silent and began to speak without the benefit of volume.

*********

Dazed, Relena stared after the retreating military ambulance that carried away the injured and unconscious Heero Yuy. A late afternoon breeze had picked up, coming off the water, and she shivered in her thin party dress. The last several minutes (it had only been minutes, hadn't it?) had all gone by far too quickly. After Heero had fallen into the water, the other strange boy hadn't hesitated before diving into the water and dragging Heero ashore. And this was after he'd just been shooting at the young soldier - or whatever Heero was. 

__

He'd been trying to protect me, Relena reminded herself. Then the boy had urged her to call an ambulance. By the time she'd made the call and returned, the braided boy was gone. She'd made the emergency call anonymously, and had hidden when the sound of sirens had drawn near. Attempting to explain what she'd been doing here would have been difficult; she simply felt too strung out to try to make up something plausible sounding. Anything she would have said could have compromised Heero in whatever he was trying to accomplish. Relena realised Heero viewed her as a liability; she would show him that she wasn't. She cared about him, and would help him as best she could.

She blinked and looked around. The sun was getting lower. If she didn't return to the car soon, Peygan would begin to worry. With a sigh, she took note of her torn dress and bloodstained gloves. She would have some explaining to do to someone; that was certain. Beginning the long trek back to the hill where Peygan waited with the car, she returned her thoughts to how she could help Heero. Despite his hostility, she was positive that she'd seen brief flashes of something kind in the boy. It was sad that someone as young as he had been sent on such a dangerous mission.

But what was that mission? Something had been coming out of the water. Heero had said it was his mobile suit, and then, after the explosion, the other boy had said something about Heero being the pilot of the other Gundam, of knowing about the impact tolerance of gundanium. _What's gundanium? Is a Gundam some new sort of mobile suit?_ If the object had been Heero's mobile suit, his Gundam, then he'd been trying to destroy it. Although, Relena realised, there might be more than one, since for Heero to be the pilot of the other Gundam implied there were two of them.

__

Why would he want to destroy his own mobile suit? she wondered, pausing to remove her shoes, before she began trudging up the incline to her car. _I'm really bright_, Relena grimaced, stopping to rearrange the tattered skirt of her gown, _running around like some kind of adventure story heroine dressed like this._

"Relena!" came a pleasant and familiar voice. She looked up to see Quatre jogging down the hill toward her. "Are you all right? "

Of all the people who could have arrived just then, he was the most welcome. She broke out into a relieved smile, and before she could think twice, rushed up and threw her arms around his neck. "Quatre," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I'm so glad to see you." He was such a comforting, solid, and real warmth that she simply clung to him while the nervous tears she'd been containing broke loose.

His arms wrapped around her, a little hesitantly at first, but then strengthening their embrace as she began to sob. "Are you hurt?" he asked gently, and she felt him begin to stroke her hair.

"N-no," she hiccoughed. "I... I'm fine." No one had held her like this when she cried for such a long time - not even her mother or father. _I've been so lonely_, she understood as she inhaled the clean, spicy-sweet scent of Quatre, clenching her fingers in the crisp cotton of his shirt. _Is this what it means to have a friend?_ she wondered, sniffling as she finally released the blond.

Relena could feel her face heating slightly as she stepped back, wiping her eyes on the back of one soiled white glove. "I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to be so..."

"It's okay," Quatre said with a smile, handing her a handkerchief. "Sometimes you need to cry. Don't be embarrassed." His expression turned a little odd as his eyes ran over her ruined dress and bloodstained gloves. "That's not your blood, is it."

He hadn't inflected it as a question, but Relena answered anyway, "No, it's... it's Heero's. He was shot, and I tried to help him." It sounded so strange to say it out loud. The events she'd witnessed suddenly became that much more real.

"Shot?" Quatre's eyes widened as he reached to take her shoes, and then grasp her hand in his. Giving it a little tug, he continued, "Can we talk about it in your car? We need to get you home and cleaned up."

Relena slumped in frustration, "I can't go home yet... the party's still on, and my mother will be... upset to see me like this."

Quatre's expression grew thoughtful, "Nigel won't be home yet; you can come to my apartment if you want. I think my sister left some clothes there that might fit you. And it's probably a better place to talk than in the car."

"You wouldn't mind?" Relena felt her mood brighten at the generous offer. Quatre shook his head, his smile broadening. She returned the smile. "That would be wonderful, thank you!"

Peygan, true to the discretion required by a professional chauffeur, questioned neither Relena's appearance, nor her newly acquired companion and choice of destination. They didn't speak much on the way to Quatre's apartment, aside from a brief discussion on where Quatre could procure his own chauffeur and car for the time he'd be staying in the area. He admitted he was becoming tired of relying on his tutor or taxis for transportation.

Once they'd reached their destination, Quatre showed Relena the bathroom and the wardrobe of his sister's clothing before he left her to herself. Feeling somewhat self-conscious, she quickly selected a pair of loose black crepe trousers and a ruby coloured blouse. The cut seemed a little mature to Relena, but it would do for now. She showered, dressed, and joined Quatre in his living room.

"I made some tea, if you'd like some. Are you hungry?" he spoke as she emerged from the hall.

"Tea would be nice, thank you. I'm not hungry though." She fidgeted with the too-long cuffs of the blouse while Quatre busied himself in the kitchen collecting cups and a tray. The small apartment - which she gathered belonged to either the family or his sister - was tastefully furnished in a soothing, neutral palette, the furnishings, classic and understated. She seated herself on the sofa; her posture felt a bit too rigid, but she found that she was unable to relax completely. There were so many things she wanted to talk to Quatre about, and he was taking his time in coming to join her.

Eventually Quatre exited the small kitchen to set his tray of teapot, cups, sugar, and cream on the glass-topped coffee table. He seated himself next to her and poured the tea. "What you did today was quite dangerous," he began, "I was concerned for you."

Was she being scolded? Quatre's tone was polite and friendly, but he didn't seem pleased. "I'm old enough to take care of myself," she protested, trying not to sound whiny. "I knew what I was doing."

"I'm sure you thought you did." Quatre glanced up at her before straightening in his seat. His gaze turned unexpectedly intent. "What happened, Relena? What's going on with Heero. And I don't mean hypothetically."

She blinked, astonished at the note of authority that had unexpectedly entered the boy's tone. "Well... I... I'm not sure..." Relena stalled for time as she frantically attempted to organise the events of the day relative to what she'd already told Quatre. "I went to the wharf because of what Ken said at the party. I was worried about Heero."

When she stopped speaking to sip her tea, Quatre prompted her to continue. "And you found him there?" 

"Yes," she said slowly, afraid to meet Quatre's eyes. How could his gaze have become so penetrating? She forced herself to continue, speaking a little too rapidly. "He was there. He had a bunch of torpedoes. I didn't know what he was going to do with them, but I decided it couldn't be anything good, so I tried to talk him out of doing whatever it was he was planning."

She took a deep breath and continued, "I'm sure he doesn't want to do bad things. I can just feel it. He's not a bad person..." She trailed off as she realised she was beginning to sound a touch deluded, even to herself. Heero had pulled a gun on her, hadn't he? If the other boy, the one dressed like a priest, hadn't shown up when he had, she could very well be dead by now. Swallowing with difficulty as she imagined her cold corpse floating to the bottom of the harbour to become fish food, she took a large gulp of tea, and tried in vain to keep her hands from shaking.

"Did he threaten you again?" Quatre asked, his tone softer now. 

"Yes... He hesitated at first - almost as if he didn't want to - but then he pulled a gun on me."

"Then what happened?"

"He said something like, 'You're in too deep. Good bye, Relena' and then, before he could fire, someone shot _him_, in the arm." She set her cup down on the table before leaning forward and hugging herself. Quatre scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "It was so loud, and he fell down... there was blood and, I was so..." her voice faltered, breaking down to a whisper, "I was so scared."

"Who shot him?" Quatre pressed, but his voice was gentle, the warmth of his proximity soothing.

"Another boy, his age - our age. He was odd. Dressed like a priest, with a long braid, and a cap. He was trying to protect me, but I didn't recognise him." Frowning at the memory, at her actions, which with the benefit of hindsight, seemed utterly insane, she spoke again, "Heero tried to get his gun, but the other boy fired again, knocking the gun away. I ran between them and told them to stop. Heero was hurt. It was awful. So I helped him, I bandaged him with my dress to stop the bleeding." Relena realised she was crying again. "I hope he's okay."

"And you don't know who that other boy is?"

Relena shrugged, taking an offered tissue. She turned her head away to blow her nose delicately, and, pulling away from Quatre's half embrace, turned to face him on the sofa. "I think he's involved in the same thing as Heero - even though they didn't seem to know each other. Operation Meteor?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, something started to come out of the water. I think the strange boy had something to do with it, because he set of a flare to blind me from seeing. I didn't get a good look at it, but Heero did, I think. He said it was his mobile suit."

"Mobile suit?"

Nodding, Relena continued, her voice strengthening as she relayed what seemed to be crucial information. "Heero launched the torpedoes at it. The other boy said something about gundanium and how Heero must be the pilot of the other Gundam."

"Gundam. That must be the name of the mobile suit? And the other boy - he must be a pilot of one of these... Gundams as well?"

"That's what I think."

"So where are they now?"

"Heero was knocked unconscious after he fell into the water launching the torpedoes. The other boy dragged him ashore. I called an ambulance, but by the time I got back the boy was gone. I checked on Heero and then hid until after the ambulance had arrived and taken him away."

Quatre fell silent, his expression thoughtful. Relena waited for him to speak again to offer his own insight, but he merely sipped at his tea, frowning slightly.

In the wake of Quatre's silence, Relena spoke again. "I'd like to go to the hospital to make sure he's okay. I think he was taken to the Alliance Hospital."

"Do you think that's wise? These people are dangerous."

"He's hurt and alone. He needs to know someone cares about what happens to him. And I feel partly responsible for him being there."

"All right," Quatre conceded slowly. "I won't try to talk you out of it, but I _will_ go with you. I don't think you should go alone."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," Relena smiled, standing. "Thank you, Quatre. You've been such a good friend to me."

She was surprised to see Quatre blush slightly as he stood too. "I hope we can continue to be friends, Relena."

"So do I," she admitted, feeling somewhat strange to be making that admission. "It's hard to find real friends. Most of them only want to be around me because of my family, it seems."

"I know exactly what you mean. It can be lonely."

"Lonely, yes. I guess we have that in common too." They stood awkwardly for a moment before Quatre gestured for her to precede him from the room to the hall. "Oh, my dress!" she exclaimed, remembering she'd left it in the bathroom.

"Don't worry about it right now," Quatre said, opening the door. "I'll make sure it gets laundered and returned to you."

It took them longer than expected to reach the Alliance Hospital due to the heavy afternoon traffic. Relena fidgeted in the back seat, wishing the car could sprout wings and just fly over the slowly creeping queues of cars ahead of them. She smiled at that thought before Quatre interrupted her musings. "Don't worry, we'll get there," he said, evidently noticing her anxiety.

"I know. I'm just worried about him. It's been such a weird day too." She sighed, slumping back and leaning her head against the window, absently watching the woman in the car next to theirs trying to apply lipstick in her rearview mirror.

"That reminds me. I forgot to wish you a Happy Birthday." 

Relena brightened with a chuckle, "Thank you. It's certainly turning out to be a memorable one. It doesn't even feel like the same day..."

Eventually they did arrive at the hospital. A few inquiries took them to the nurse's station in the ICU unit of building three. "Excuse me," Relena addressed the woman behind the desk, "We're here to visit the young man brought in today from the wharf."

The nurse looked up briefly, "Let me see," she spoke tapping at her keyboard. "It says here he's not permitted any visitors, I'm sorry."

"No visitors? Are his injuries that bad?" asked Relena, trying to keep the note of panic from her voice, "I really need to see him. I'm the one who called the ambulance..." She broke off at Quatre's hand on her arm. 

He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze and leaned forward to fix the nurse with a dazzling smile. "Surely you could make an exception for my friend and I. The young man is a close acquaintance from out of town. We're both concerned for his well being. I'm sure you can sympathise with that?"

The young woman behind the desk returned Quatre's smile with a light colouring of her cheeks. "I'll see if there's something I can do. Wait here for a moment, please."

"Thank you very much. You're very kind." Quatre's smile broadened.

Looking between the blushing nurse and Quatre, before the woman moved away to find someone who could perhaps help them with their problem, Relena decided it was like seeing the boy for the first time. Yes, she had to admit, he was extremely handsome - the slightly unruly blond hair, expressive eyes, refined features, and urbane manner. That, combined with the knee-melting smile he'd just displayed, led Relena to wonder why she hadn't found herself swooning over Quatre the same way Bethany and Co. had been. _Whatever girl he does decide to fix his attentions on won't stand a chance of resisting_

Relena turned at the sound of footsteps approaching. A tall, handsome woman in a military uniform approached. Her smile was warm as she addressed them, "I'm Major Sally. Could you tell me more about the young man you're wanting to visit?"

"Can we see him, please?" Relena pressed, not wanting to give the Major what she wanted until she knew Heero was all right.

"Come with me," said Sally, indicating they should follow her.

After following Major Sally a short way, they entered an elevator and headed up to the fiftieth floor. "I'm very interested in that young man. He has a wild look about him, but I sense he has an inner strength," the officer began again.

Exchanging a quick glance with Quatre, whose attention seemed elsewhere, Relena shrugged, "He seems like a pretty ordinary guy to me," she said slowly, frowning at Quatre. Though he met her gaze, his eyes were glassy, and his mouth was slightly slack as he gripped the rail of the elevator tightly for support. It reminded her of that time on the shuttle. She was just about to ask him if he were all right when he came to with several rapid blinks. Straightening his posture, he smiled at her, once more perfectly alert. _Weird. Does he have some sort of health problem?_ she wondered.

"What're your names?" Sally asked, diverting Relena's attention from her friend.

Before Relena could respond, Quatre did. "I'm Quatre Winner, and this is my friend, Relena Darlian."

"Winner?" Major Sally looked surprised, "And Darlian? You're related to the Vice Foreign Minister?"

"Yes," Relena grimaced. "I'm his errant daughter." Quatre seemed so much more proud of his name than she was of hers sometimes.

"I'm sorry if I said something to upset you," the major spoke gently in mild embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it," Relena replied. It wasn't the Major's fault her father was too busy to have even stayed around for her birthday. But feeling sorry for herself wasn't why she was here. "Can we go see Heero now?" she blurted.

Leaning forward in interest, "Heero. Is that his name?" Major Sally prompted.

"Um, yes. I'm his classmate and good friend." In her peripheral vision, Relena saw Quatre wince slightly. _Oops, that doesn't mesh with the out of town story he told the nurse... Oh well. It's not like we're being straightforward about much at this stage._ Beginning to feel a bit out of her depth, Relena was relieved when the elevator halted and the doors slid open revealing a glass enclosed room full of assorted monitors. "Heero..." Rushing to the window Relena peered down into the theatre below. 

There he was. He looked unconscious and terribly vulnerable, strapped down on a table with all sorts of things plugged into him. A pool of blood was collecting on the floor below his injured arm. They hadn't even bandaged him - it was barbaric! She tore her eyes away from the injured boy and turned fiercely, "What have you got him tied down for? He's hurt and bleeding? How could you..." 

Quatre reached her and put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure there's a good reason for it, Relena." he spoke softly, but his tone was hard edged as he glanced down at Heero. "I _hope_ there's a good reason for it," Quatre turned back to Sally, his mouth pressed into a thin line of displeasure.

Giving a gesture of helplessness, the Major attempted to explain, "We're unsure of him. He's much too strong for us - that's why he's restrained. We need to ask him some questions before we can release him."

"He's not in the Alliance Military?" Relena queried. _I was right. He's not with the Alliance or OZ._

"Let's go downstairs," said the Major instead of answering. 

Exiting the observation room the three began to descend a narrow metal staircase, but before they could get far, a sudden explosion rocked the room. Relena cried out, covering her ears in alarm. Blinking to see through the smoke, she saw a gaping hole in the far wall of the room, the dust settling around a figure she recognised. She grabbed Quatre's arm and whispered, "That's him, that's the other boy from the wharf. 

She started to continue down the stairs, but Quatre restrained her, "Wait a minute. It's dangerous."

After pulling her sidearm, Sally turned back to them, "Are you both okay?" Relena nodded, and Sally rushed down the remaining steps.

Somehow, Heero was free and moving; he and the braided presumed-pilot were fleeing through the ragged gap in the wall with Sally pursuing them. Had they planned this? It was all so well executed.

"Let me go," she demanded, pulling her arm roughly from Quatre's grip. She had to see what was happening. Recklessly, she took the stairs two at a time, nearly falling as she reached the bottom before scrambling to follow the Major.

"Relena!" Quatre's voice was exasperated behind her, but she heard his steps as he hurried along behind her.

Another explosion came from ahead causing Relena to fall to her knees and cover her head as a cloud of debris flew past. A hand closed over her ankle. "Are you okay?" Quatre asked.

"I'm fine..." she trailed off, looking ahead at the sunlight pouring through the new opening in the exterior wall in time to see the two boys take a leap out into the open air. They were fifty stories up. "Oh no..."

She was helped to her feet by Quatre, and the two jogged to catch up with Sally who was staring in disbelief at the two free falling figures. No, Relena amended. The boy with the braid had deployed some kind of propeller on a stick to slow his descent, but Heero... he was just falling straight down onto the rocks lining the beach below. "Heero! No!" she cried. "Heero!" 

Then, miraculously, almost as if he'd heard her, he moved and a parachute blossomed from a pack on his back. Still, he'd fallen a long way without slowing. She hid her face as his small form detached from the parachute and impacted with the unforgiving terrain below. Turning away from the imagined horror of Heero's death, she was pulled into Quatre's arms. Trembling she found herself just whispering "No," over and over again. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be happening. 

"It's okay," Quatre spoke, a note of disbelief in his voice. "He's not... he's not hurt."

"Wh-what?" she stammered, pulling away to see for herself. Sure enough, far below, two figures were moving. She saw the other boy move to support Heero just as a motorised boat came close to shore to pick them up.

"Damn," Major Sally swore, glaring at the two boys who were making their escape, before turning and fixing Quatre and Relena with a skeptical expression. "He's a classmate of yours?" When neither answered her, the Major continued in a resigned tone, "Nevermind. I'm sure you two didn't have anything to do with that. Why don't you go home to your families and get some rest."

*********

Duo glanced at the man in the white coat lying at his feet, before hitting the switch on the monitor. For a so-called Alliance hospital, these guys weren't exactly up on security. Breaking in had been a joke. He grinned. _Especially for someone with my experience. _ It had been almost _too _easy – he just hoped it wasn't some kind of trap. Still, at least he was in; time to get on with the job at hand. Howard would be waiting at the rendezvous point with the Gundams; it was now up to Duo to collect the other person invited to the party.

His mind went back to the weird initial meeting with Heero. "Tell me why I'm rescuing you again?" Duo muttered under his breath, observing the image of the other pilot as the monitor came to life. Heero turned his head towards the small screen to the side of the examination table he was restrained to, but his expression didn't change. 

Duo placed a finger over his lips, motioning Heero to be silent. "I'm guessing even a guy like you knows when to be quiet, and that you can understand me," Duo told him. Hopefully his assumption that the other boy could lip read was correct or they were screwed. "Okay, listen up, and I'll help you get out of here." Duo frowned. "No change in pulse, or fluctuation in your breathing. That's some control you have there, pal. When we're done here you and I are going to have a long chat."

Heero didn't respond, but Duo knew from the glare he'd received before the other boy had turned away that his words had been understood. Whoever this guy was, he was another Gundam pilot – and Gundam pilots needed to stick together. Of course if Heero had plans to implement the original Operation Meteor, Duo would have no problems in pointing out why that was no longer an option. He'd worry about that later though; at present the idea of another ally was looking damn attractive. Sure Howard was cool, but he wasn't a Gundam pilot. 

Duo quickly got himself into position, shaking his head in mock sadness. Didn't these idiots realize that leaving complete floor plans to this place lying around where anyone could uplift them was just asking for it? He tightened his grip on Howard's fun gadget – part of him was looking forward to trying it out, the other part wondered if maybe _he_ should be the one using the parachute, not Heero. 

The bomb worked like a charm, blowing the door to the room where Heero was being held, and within moments Duo was struggling with the other boy's restraints. "Damn," he muttered, "can't budge them."

Meanwhile the building came to life, as the hospital staff finally realised they had company. _Took you long enough_, Duo thought, muttering a few choice curses under his breath as the sound of rapid footfall came closer. 

"Give me your knife," Heero's voice was the same brusque tone he'd used at the wharf; his hands flexing in an effort to break free of the leather straps.

__

Yeah sure, Heero, thank me later. Duo stopped mid thought as he noticed the blood dripping from Heero's wound. "Hey, your arm," he started, then stopped while he watched Heero make short work of the straps. How the hell could Heero just ignore all that blood? It was kind of hard to miss. Duo swallowed hard, trying not to focus on the growing red stain seeping through the straps and over Heero's hand. He glanced backwards into the corridor. Shit, they were running out of time. 

"Come on," he yelled after Heero freed himself, "we're getting company and fast. Here, catch." Duo threw the parachute at Heero, and headed for the door. He paused at the entrance to the corridor, checking their escape route was still viable while Heero shrugged on the parachute. "This way!" Duo headed off quickly, hoping like hell Heero was behind him. 

Footsteps sounded behind them and Duo hit the floor, throwing the grenade towards the window while shielding himself from the blast. Duo launched himself through what had been a large window moments before, hitting the small switch to kick start Howard's mechanical propeller. 

He twisted his head – just in time to notice Heero falling head first, eyes closed and ignoring his parachute. What the hell? Was the guy even crazier than he'd first thought? This wasn't some Sunday afternoon stroll. If Heero didn't open that chute…"Heero, what the hell are you doing? You idiot, open the damn parachute."

Heero ignored him, and continued his descent. A shrill very familiar sounding voice sounded from above, and Duo craned his head to spot three figures, leaning over what now a good sized hole courtesy of his grenade. "Heero!" Damn, what was it with that girl and Heero? Was she his girl-friend or something? Strange relationship if she was. Unless this was how Heero was with relationships? _Note to self; don't get too involved with this guy until you work out what makes him tick. _

If he survives that long. 

"Heero!" To Duo's relief the other boy's eyes opened, and he seemed to suddenly become aware of exactly how much shit he was in. _Took you long enough._ Duo wasn't sure he could watch as Heero pulled on his cord, but continued plunging straight down headfirst; his parachute opening too late to save him from certain death. "What the hell is up with you," Duo muttered. "I'm sure going to have nightmares over this one. "

Heero discarded his chute, moments before hitting the first set of rocks, curling his body into a ball as he literally bounced down the cliff face below them. _Ouch_, thought Duo, wincing in sympathy. _That_ has _to hurt_. 

Heero finally reached the bottom of the cliff and twisted so that he rolled the last few feet, coming to a stop on the sandy beach. To Duo's amazement he picked himself up calmly, shaking sand from his clothes and stood staring into the distance. 

__

He's alive? I don't believe this. Who the hell is this guy? Duo discarded his own mode of transportation, landing in a crouch beside the other boy to give him the quick once over. 

Heero clenched his fist, then unclenched it. "Damn," he muttered. "I shouldn't have released my parachute."

"You don't say," commented Duo sarcastically. He tilted his cap, then gave Heero an exasperated look. "Look, pal, next time you decide to commit suicide find some other way of doing it, okay?"

He placed Heero's arm around his shoulder in way of offering him some physical support, while they made their way to the boat which had appeared as if on cue. Howard had arrived to give them the way out they needed before the military worked out what was going on and tried to apprehend them. One thing was for certain - Duo had no intention of taking them up on their kind offer of hospitality. He'd seen enough of the so-called kindness of the Alliance to last him a lifetime.

"I'm not asking you to trust me or anything," he told Heero, as the other pilot closed his eyes but said nothing. "But right now I'm the only friend you've got."

*********

Quatre entered the small foyer of his apartment slowly, his mind still mulling over the events of the past few hours. He hadn't been happy leaving Relena after what had happened- watching Heero and the other boy make their escape from the Alliance hospital by jumping from the window had unnerved both of them, to say the least, especially when Heero had delayed opening his parachute. Thankfully, the pilot was all right. 

There had been no mistaking that Heero Yuy and the pilot he'd felt on his journey to Earth were one and the same. The empathic signatures were identical – Quatre had found from experience that he could usually identify someone he knew well in this manner but this had been the first time he'd connected to someone so strongly, especially a stranger. 

He frowned, tugging at the tie around his neck as he began divesting himself of the formal attire he'd worn to Relena's party. Something was nagging at him but he couldn't work out what. Quatre kicked his shoes off, and padded towards the small kitchen, pouring himself a glass of juice as his mind struggled to connect the dots. He paused, trying to visualize the events of the day, groaning aloud when his memory refused to co-operate. What was he missing? Quatre deliberately took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, as he worked through what had happened.

The hospital. It had something to do with the hospital. Heero had followed the other boy, the one dressed in black, out the window, and…Quatre stopped. That was it. There was something about that boy, something very familiar. The blond placed his hand on his heart, almost instinctively, and smiled. Was he like Heero? Was that the reason Quatre had felt drawn to him? It was the only explanation which made any sense. He doubted the two pilots had noticed him, but he'd felt drawn to both of them – he'd known they were there even before the explosions had alerted the hospital personnel to their exact whereabouts. The smile turned to a grin. At times he'd likened his ability to pick up emotions to that of a dog picking up a trail. Each person had their own unique 'smell', for want of a better word, yet for some reason Heero's and the other boy's had almost intertwined for a moment, reaching out to tug at him, pull him towards them, in much the same way Heero's had a few days before. 

"Master Quatre? Is that you?" Quatre's train of thought was interrupted by the extremely annoyed tones of his tutor. "I was about to call in the authorities."

Quatre turned to greet Nigel, as the older man sighed and placed the newspaper under his arm on the counter top. "Sorry, Nigel. I should have let you know I was going to be late."

Nigel sighed again. "If something were to happen to you, your father would hold me personally responsible. In future could you please inform me of your whereabouts? I was concerned when you didn't come home at the expected time." The tutor raised one eyebrow. "I do however appreciate the fact that a person of your age involved in a romantic liaison does not always think logically." Nigel gave him the smallest hint of a smile. "Young love. At times like this I wish I were younger." 

"Young love?" What on earth was Nigel talking about? "But…"

Nigel made a small tsk-tsking noise, then opened up the evening edition of the local newspaper to the Young Society page, and showed it to Quatre.

Winner heir and Vice Minister Darlian's daughter romantically involved, screamed the headline. 

"But…" spluttered Quatre, running his eye down the article, and trying not to laugh. A newsprint picture of him and Relena sitting talking at her party, holding hands across a small table, their gazes quite firmly fixed on each other, and seemingly unaware of anyone else in the room. "A close friend of Miss Darlian's insists that although Master Winner told her he has no intentions towards the young lady in question, it's obvious he's hiding something." Quatre sighed, wondering which particular 'close friend' had shared that particular tidbit of information. 

__

How on earth do these journalists manage such a rapid turn around time on their gossip?

"I can explain…" he started. "This is nothing like it seems. Someone must have taken a photo while we were talking." Relena had reached across the table and grabbed his hand when she'd brought up the subject of Operation Meteor. He shook his head. If the media were going to take an interest in their non-existent relationship, this could be awkward, especially considering he didn't want to draw attention to himself while attempting to continue his research into Operation Meteor.

Nigel gave him another small smile. "If you insist…sir." He paused. "Remember we have an early start in the morning. " The other man turned to head towards the corridor leading to the bedrooms. "I suspect you would prefer some time on your own to recover from your…busy…day, so I'll say good night now, Master Quatre."

"Good night, Nigel." Quatre replied, almost absently. He'd forgotten all about his father's planned schedule for him, and his reason for coming to Earth. Tomorrow was the tour of the Japanese branch of Winner Enterprises; a chance for him to observe the inner workings of the company, and experience a small taste of some of the responsibilities expected of him as the Winner family heir. 

Quatre removed his shirt and headed for the small bathroom opposite his bedroom. He splashed his face with cool water, and rummaged through the bathroom cabinet for some toothpaste, nearly knocking a glass bottle off the narrow shelf. "Rose and Sandlewood Massage Oil," he read the label with a small smile. "I'm not even going to ask what Alimah's plans are for that." When his sister had been on Earth last, and staying here at the shared family apartment, she'd supposedly been on her own. Or so she'd insisted. Quatre replaced the blue bottle, making a mental note to tease her about it the next time they met, as he continued his search. His leg brushed against something soft overhanging the side of the bath, and he smiled as he recognised Relena's party dress. Speaking of teasing, it might pay for him to shift her clothing before Nigel discovered it and used it to fuel his theory that he and his new friend were ' romantically involved.' Making a mental note to arrange to get it laundered, he continued rummaging around in the cupboard. Finally he found the small tube he'd been searching for and began to brush his teeth. Even though it was still light outside, he was tired from the events of the past few days, and he suspected the change in time zones wasn't helping. 

He'd check his email first, he decided, before attempting to get some sleep. If Rashid had managed to find the information he required, it would be easier to contact him without Nigel hovering in the background. Padding into the bedroom, he booted up his laptop, and checked his mail. 

Good. Quatre opened the expected email, and devoured the information greedily. So the meteors were some kind of new mobile suit. Interesting. His eye ran down the screen further. Gundanium. He frowned, suddenly remembering why the word had seemed familiar; Relena had used it while telling him about her experience at the wharf. Hadn't H also used that word when he'd escorted him the resource satellite? Could there be a connection between the scientist's work and these new…Gundams? H had been convinced of the need to fight for peace both on Earth and in the colonies. 

According to Rashid two of these Gundams had been seen in Europe and China. If, as he suspected, they played a large part in whatever Operation Meteor was, it was important to observe them discreetly and attempt to retrieve more information. 

Quatre opened a new email and began typing a message to his friend. After thanking him for the valuable information, he queried the possibility of the Maguanacs monitoring the two Gundams. He needed to ascertain whom the pilots were fighting for, and how much of a threat OZ and the Alliance perceived them to be. The fact that Heero had been in restraints in the Alliance hospital, and Major Sally's comments regarding how unsure they were of his capabilities suggested that they knew very little about either the pilots or their suits. 

Four meteors. If each meteor were in fact a Gundam, these new sightings accounted for only two. So if Heero and the boy with the long braid had been the other two pilots, where were _their _Gundams? Mobile suits weren't easy to hide, and presumably Heero's main priority would be keeping his Gundam out of the hands of the military. The information Relena had told him regarding what had happened at the wharf had been quite detailed, especially considering how shaken up she'd been from the experience. She was a strong person - if only she'd be more careful – her tendency to not think of her own safety was beginning to concern him. He sighed. The events at the hospital had made him even more determined to learn more about the Gundams and their pilots. For now there were too many questions which needed answering. The other pilot had obviously been trying to protect Relena when he'd shot at Heero - so the two hadn't met at that point? Why then had he taken the risk to rescue the boy from the hospital? Maybe he had decided that they needed to work together. After all if there were only four Gundams against the might of the Alliance and Oz forces, they would need to pool their information and resources. Four pilots working together would be able to achieve much more than one working alone. 

Quatre paused, his fingers hesitating on the keyboard, before adding a final request. Relena could be in danger if the Alliance suspected she was connected to Heero in some way. It might be a good idea if Rashid could send one of the men he'd brought to Japan with him to keep an eye on her. After her rash behaviour in going after Heero, he wouldn't be at all surprised if she was attempting to track him down herself. _Relena_, he thought with a smile. _You might be sensible when it comes to boys, but obviously that common sense doesn't extend to cover Gundam pilots. _

*********

"There," said Duo, with a satisfied grin. "I've pulled yours up too." He released the controls of the crane as the other Gundam rose from the water to join Deathscythe on the deck of Howard's barge. "You could at least show me some gratitude." Duo glanced around, wondering what the hell Heero was up to…now. This guy was seriously weird. 

A beautiful evening, the sun still shining, the sea nice and calm, but could they just sit and enjoy the scenery? Get real. 

__

Oh crap, you have got to be kidding. Duo buried his face in his hands and sighed. Heero was on his back holding his injured leg with both hands, attempting to set his own thigh bone. A few groans and grunts came from the other boy as he focused on the task at hand. A loud crack sounded, signaling he'd succeeded, and Duo swallowed hard, feeling his dinner reconsider if it wanted to stay in his stomach where it belonged. "I can't take much more of this," he grumbled. 

Heero calmly rose to his feet, adjusted the bandage on his leg and strolled away, as though it was something he did every day, three times before breakfast. The way things were going, Duo wouldn't be surprised if that wasn't too far from the truth. 

"Oh man, he just set his own broken leg," he muttered to whoever was bothering to listen. "That totally grosses me out just thinking about it. "

*********

Wufei swung Nataku's beam glaive once, then twice, heavy grey smoke pouring from the burnt out shells of what, moments ago, had been the main buildings of Indus supply base. He brought his Gundam's arm down again, surveying the destruction he'd been responsible for with a degree of disappointment. 

"They're just so defenseless," he told himself, his brow creasing in a frown. "Looks as though they're not taking me seriously enough." 

It was very foolish to underestimate an enemy, or make assumptions based on initial appearances. Still, it seemed a common trait amongst those he'd met so far. Wufei thought back to his encounter with the men who had supplied him with the explosives he needed for his next mission. 

One of the men had been more than happy regarding their transaction. As long as the Chinese pilot had the money to pay for the merchandise, that was the extent of his concern. The other man, the one driving the vehicle, hadn't viewed the situation the same way, but had instead voiced his uneasiness regarding leaving such a large amount of explosives in the hands of a 'mere teenager.' 

Before Wufei could correct his error of judgement, the man who had organized the deal had spoken and chastised his companion. "Don't ask questions," he'd reminded the man behind the wheel of the large truck. "We've got the money; what happens now is not our problem." He'd tilted his hat to Wufei in a mock salute, before leaving. "Good luck."

Wufei had given him a curt nod in reply. "Thank you." Perhaps those observing the destruction of this base needed to be shown that he was indeed a worthy opponent. 

Raising the dragon fang attached to Nataku's right arm, he aimed for the still standing large storage tower and fired, following the action with a burst from the weapon's flamethrower. Wufei turned, with a small sigh of satisfaction, noting the fierce fires breaking out around him. _There_, he thought. _That might make them reconsider their erroneous presumption. _

*********

"Are Abdul and Auda in position?" Quatre asked Rashid, sliding himself into the seat behind the monitoring equipment. He'd received word that morning from the head of the Maguanacs that the Gundam they had been observing in Europe was heading for the Alliance supply base at Corsica. Quatre had made his way to where his friend and the few men he'd brought with him to Japan were staying so that he could use their equipment to observe the mecha in action for himself. So far the information they'd managed to provide him with hadn't been particularly detailed, but he suspected that was because the Alliance themselves didn't know as much as they would like on these new suits either. 

A small smile played over his lips. As far as Nigel was concerned he was meeting Relena for dinner, not furthering his research on the Gundams and Operation Meteor. He'd told the tutor the truth about his plans, but not the complete truth. Quatre was sure if Nigel were aware of what he'd been doing the last few days, and what his mind had really been on while he'd been going through the motions of paying attention during lengthy but boring tours of various sections of Winner Enterprises, he would have no hesitation in sharing the information with his father. And his father would be very much less than impressed. 

Rashid nodded. "Close enough to relay radio transmission, but from enough of a distance to not be observed. As you requested, Master Quatre." The large man took up a position behind Quatre, and focused his attention on the small screen hooked into the Alliance satellite feed they'd hacked into. 

"Good," the young man replied. "We don't want the Alliance or the Gundam pilot to realise they have company. I also don't want to put anyone in danger because of my investigation." Quatre paused. "I appreciate you sharing your resources, Rashid, and aiding my search for information. "

Rashid nodded again, his expression unreadable, as were his emotions. Quatre frowned; the shielding he'd come up against the last time they had met face to face was still firmly in place. _What is he hiding from me, and why? _"We're happy to help where we are able."

__

Where we are able? Quatre's train of thought was interrupted by frantic voices coming through via the radio transmissions. 

"Enemy attack confirmed."

"But sir, there's only one of them," the other soldier's voice sounded almost puzzled. 

"One may be enough," came the reply. 

Enough? Quatre frowned. Enough for what? Did they believe this one Gundam would be enough to stand against their troops? Still, judging from the data he'd seen from the previous Gundam attacks, it certainly seemed more than capable of doing so. 

He flicked a few switches on the console in front of him, until he found the satellite feed that would give him the best view of the area, and the upcoming battle. A large red mobile suit, which could only be the Gundam, was firing at the Leos attempting to defend the base, the Gatling guns mounted in its chest cavity making short work of the Alliance troops. 

__

So that's a Gundam. Quatre took a sharp breath. The information he'd read didn't do it justice. It was certainly a powerful machine, considering the ease in which the pilot seemed to be holding his own against the attacking Leos. For a brief moment, Quatre wondered what it would be like to be behind the controls of such a suit himself. It had been such a long time since he'd had the privilege of piloting – it was something his father didn't think was a suitable past time for his son and heir. 

The Gundam swung in a semi-circle, employing the Gatling cannon attached to its arm to destroy more Leos, before bringing it to bear on the planes approaching it from the air. Soon the air was filled with the smoke from burning wreckage, and Quatre sighed. A very powerful machine indeed. No wonder the Alliance were concerned. The beam Gatling cannon was very impressive – this was a suit expected to win whatever battle it undertook, if its offensive capabilities were any indication of its designer's intentions. 

The video feed blanked out momentarily and Quatre hastily switched to another camera. Obviously the Gundam had taken out the one he'd been hooked into, as it continued to leave a path of destruction its wake. The Alliance moved in to surround the Gundam, retaliating with its own firepower, but failed to penetrate the gundanium armour. 

Quatre shook his head, as he continued to observe the battle. Even though the enemy commanders decision to surround and destroy, was, in effect the correct one under the circumstances, he should have waited to determine his enemy's capabilities first. 

His eye catching a movement on the screen to his right, Quatre noticed several Aries moving into position to join the fight. OZ troops? What the? His mind worked through the information he'd been given previously by the Maguanacs, and he spoke urgently into the radio. "Abdul, Auda. This is Quatre. Be careful. Reinforcements are arriving. Keep your distance." After the attack on the factory in Guam, Corsica would have been a logical next target. Could OZ have expected this attack by the Gundam and taken the necessary precautions?

The Aries hovered, ready for the signal to move in on the offensive – the Gundam turned, taking in the situation, then fired its Gatling cannon in response. 

Nothing.

Quatre felt himself take a sharp intake of breath. 

The Gundam released its now useless weapon, and deployed what appeared to be the equivalent of an army knife from its right arm. The chest cavity opened as the pilot continued his attempt to defend, but then closed as he realized that those weapons too were out of ammunition. 

Quatre's fingers strengthened their grip on the side of his chair. The pilot was surrounded and out-numbered. 

__

*********

Ten Aries surrounded him, not counting the two suits he'd just managed to destroy in a brief but tense melee incident. The new OZ suits were lighter than the Leos he was accustomed to fighting, but they were faster and wielded more dangerous firepower. Even with the benefit of Heavyarms' gundanium armour, Trowa didn't much like his chances. The stray warning he'd intercepted on his radio had not come soon enough. He'd only caught part of the transmission, "…Auda. This is Quatre. Be careful. Reinforcements are…" 

Unfortunately, Trowa didn't have time to contemplate either its source or its destination. A single suit charged him, breaking away from the support of its teammates. _Distracting me so the rest can pick away at me like wolves?_ Trowa questioned the seemingly reckless move, and hesitated briefly. _So, this is it?_ He wondered, feeling an odd, detached sense of surprise_. I hoped I'd make it further._

Time slowed as his senses heightened in preparation of the inevitable strike from the attacking suit. _I guess there's no retreat possible,_ he noted in abstraction as the chunky suit raised its chain rifle. 

Regret, he felt regret. He did want to make it further in this battle for the colonies. He even wanted, in some small place, to return to the circus. 

"No," he whispered and somehow managed to jerk Heavyarms' combat knife up to impact the attacking Aries. Titanium alloy shrieked as it tore under the upward sweep of the heavy blade. "I will not die today."

__

Or at least if I do, I'll die fighting. He strengthened his resolve by calling to mind images of the Alliance's and OZ's subjugation that he'd witnessed. From here on Earth, he remembered the burned villages, the homeless families, the orphans, the maimed, the wounded, and the dead. From the colonies, he remembered the fear and uncertainty, the shattered dream of peace, and the victims of the violence. _I fight for them._

The Aries exploded in a ferocious blast of heat and noise. Trowa brought his hands quickly over the controls, turning Heavyarms to face the greatest number of his surrounding foes. Before the pilots of the suits could react, he charged into their tentative battle line. 

He took out two more Aries while the rest scrambled to respond more effectively. Grappling with a third suit, he was rocked by the impact of concentrated fire from behind. The six remaining suits had converged behind him and were all firing at the left knee of the Gundam. _So, their commander isn't an idiot after all._

Heavyarms shuddered and lurched suddenly. Trowa broke off his attack against the Aries in front of him, struggling instead to bring his Gundam down gracefully as the left leg gave way. Heavyarms fell with a jolt that sent Trowa's head snapping back against his headrest with a sharp crack, jarring his teeth, but nevertheless, the Gundam landed supported on its bent right knee and extended left arm.

Ignoring the blinding pain that had blossomed up his neck and through his skull, Trowa blinked to clear his blurring vision and forced his concentration onto his sensor readouts. The Aries were converging on him. Heavyarms quaked in protestation as Trowa attempted to bring what was left of the Gundam's shattered left leg underneath the machine for support. He needed enough leverage to use the right arm.

He flipped on his remaining external cameras to supplement the smaller proximity radar, and managed to achieve a shaky balance for the suit. But it didn't last; he severely lacked maneuverability, and the Aries were behind him. He couldn't turn; he couldn't stand. Two suits knocked into the Gundam, their combined mass enough to throw his balance off again. Trowa gritted his teeth as Heavyarms fell forward with a crash of finality, and winced as he was wrenched in his seat harness. The collision with the ground was followed by a steady thunder of rounds from the chain rifles pounding into the felled machine. It was only a matter of time now. 

His external cameras went out. He felt a small explosion rock the cockpit as he lost part of the Gundam's powerplant; the instrument panels flickered and died and he smelled oily smoke. In the dark, he took a last breath. Tasting blood, he wiped his mouth with one hand and felt for the self-destruct panel with the other.

The firing ceased. The cockpit fell silent. Hesitantly, Trowa lifted his hand from the smooth button under his fingers. _What are they doing?_

His radio crackled and spat before a voice came through the static. "Gundam pilot. If you surrender yourself and your mobile suit, you will not be harmed in our custody. This is by the direct order of Lieutenant Zechs Merquise who gives you his personal word of honour."

__

The lesser of two evils? Trowa grimaced. If he destructed, they'd still have enough of the Gundam left to make whatever use of it they desired. If he surrendered, he'd have a chance to fight another day. He reached out to his comm panel, pressing the switch that would allow him to be heard on multiple OZ communication frequencies. Clearing his throat he replied, "Affirmative, OZ unit. I will surrender to Lieutenant Merquise."

"Roger that. We're moving in to assist you."

__

Assist me? Trowa laughed out loud at that, but allowed himself to relax. There was an abrupt jerk and the harness dug into his chest momentarily as the Aries suits, presumably, lifted Heavyarms. Trowa found himself pulled upright, but only for a brief span of time, until gravity seemed to reverse and he was pressed into his seat while the Gundam was lowered to its back. 

Trowa hit the hatch unlock and lay there as the doors slid open and the ramp deployed above him, useless at this angle. Pain flared through his head in the wake of the bright sunlight assaulting his eyes; the inside of his skull pounded a stabbing rhythm as if his brain were trying to escape. Trowa clenched his jaw, forcing his watering eyes to remain open and adapt to the light while fighting a wave of nausea. The sky was clear; a small puffy cloud lazily scooted past before being obscured by the bulk of an Aries suit positioning itself above, its gun aimed directly at him.

With slow deliberate movements, Trowa unfastened the harness and maneuvered to stand on his seat back. With a short jump to grip the side of the hatch opening, he swung himself up and out of the cockpit, to crouch on the chest of his Gundam. Wincing at the agony in his head and not fully trusting his balance, he stood carefully while raising his arms to indicate his lack of violent intentions. Briefly commanding his attention was the battered body of Heavyarms. The left leg was in complete ruin; scorch marks and bullet scars marred the otherwise intact surface of the Gundam's front. Dense black tendrils of smoke wisped up from under the damaged suit. His stomach sank at the thought of what the back of the machine must look like. Raising his eyes to the four Aries suits hovering around him, he waited.

*********

The pilot moved slowly out of his Gundam, his hands raised in surrender. Quatre requested an electronic zoom on the camera images, in an attempt to achieve a closer look. The image became hazy, before it adjusted to the new instructions, slowly giving the resolution he needed to observe the scene in more detail. "He's only my age," he breathed. That made all three of the pilots he'd encountered so far roughly his age. 

Quatre frowned as he noticed the boy on the screen wince. The battle had been hard; it was obvious he must have sustained a few injuries. He doubted whether the military would go any easier on him because of his age. The pilot was in trouble, and was probably more than aware of that fact. And his machine was in bad shape. Even if there were some way of escaping he would not be able to use the Gundam without extensive repairs. 

Remembering the ease in which the other boy had handled his Gundam, Quatre felt a suddenly urge of envy. How had he become a Gundam pilot? Had he come from the colonies like Quatre himself? How many other colonists believed that the oppression had to be stopped? His father had always held strong beliefs that the only way to achieve peace was through diplomacy and discussion. Maybe more people in the colonies disagreed with those philosophies than he'd initially thought?

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, ignoring the concerned look Rashid was giving him. "If only I'd been able to help in some way. If only I _could_ help in some way." Quatre clenched his fists, then unclenched them. The Gundam pilots must be trying to help stop the bloodshed caused by the Alliance and OZ. Why else would they be risking their lives in battle like this? 

__

"Would you fight…to help end the war, to end the bloodshed?"

Instructor H's words echoed through his mind. No. It couldn't be, yet it was the only explanation. H had known about gundanium. H had asked him to fight… to help end the war and he'd refused. Could the project the scientist had been working on had anything to do with Operation Meteor? Had H been responsible in some way for the Gundams? Had H been asking him to…? Quatre closed his eyes for a moment. It wasn't something he could afford to even contemplate at this stage. He'd already made his decision, and there was no way to change the past. Anyway, the Gundams all had pilots, so H had evidently found other suitable candidates. 

__

Quatre sat back in his chair, feeling numb. "There's nothing I could have done to help that pilot," he reasoned, his voice dull to his own ears._ Or was there? _

"You should not be so hard on yourself, Master Quatre," pointed out Rashid. "And you will not solve the problem by wondering what could have been. Perhaps you should think instead of the future." 

Quatre sighed. "I guess you're right, Rashid." It was too late to worry about it now. What was done, was done. 

"What do you wish to do now?" Rashid prompted gently, his emotional shielding slipped slightly and Quatre was sure he was picking up on something akin to hope or maybe anticipation, although his words didn't reflect the emotions. 

"I'm not sure I can _do _anything, my friend." Quatre thought back to the reasoning that he'd given H regarding his original decision. "But I need to help in some way, to show that that pilot's fight has not been for nothing." He made a conscious effort to drag his gaze away from the screen; surely there must be other ways to deal with this situation. He didn't have the means to fight on the battlefield in the way the Gundams did – but he did have other options and resources open to him – options which were more suited to his present situation. 

Operation Meteor. The Gundams. Instructor H. 

All three were linked, of that he was sure. But unfortunately H had disappeared shortly before Quatre had left to come to Earth. And of the four Gundams that had come to Earth, OZ now had one in its possession, and its pilot, the two probably belonging to Heero and the boy at the hospital were unaccounted for, and the other hadn't been seen since it had attacked the Indus supply base. 

Swinging his chair around, Quatre gave Rashid a small smile. "Could you inform Abdul and Auda that I would like them to continue monitoring the Corsica area, please? I want to know what happens to that Gundam pilot. " His mind began to calculate possible scenarios while he turned to face the screen once more, and his fingers began to initiate the program he'd used before to hack into OZ's security system. If he could discover the enemies' plans for the Gundam and its pilot, maybe, just maybe he could use the information against them in the playing field he was more familiar with. 

*********

One by one the surrounding Aries deployed their legs and settled to the ground, their weapons still trained on the young pilot. The hatch of the suit Trowa had judged to be the commanding suit opened, and a youthful man stepped onto the open hatch platform of his suit, his sidearm drawn. "Lieutenant Merquise is on his way." The man's voice as he yelled over the drone of the mobile suits' engines was angry and cold. 

__

He would have killed me if not for the intercession of his commander, Trowa realised without surprise. _I killed five of his men. _

The OZ soldier gestured brusquely with his pistol between Trowa and the ground.

The young pilot nodded and slowly dropped his arms. The tenderness of his head and the lagging dizziness he felt - in addition to the weaponry aimed directly at him, kept him from any moves more elegant than simply sliding down the side of his Gundam to the ground and landing in a low crouch. The Aries moved to maintain their line of sight while the OZ soldier descended from his suit via a pulley system and approached Trowa, his expression one of undisguised hatred.

"Just a kid, huh? If it were up to me you'd be dead by now. You're lucky the Lieutenant has a soft spot for heroic last stands and unique mobile suits." The man grabbed Trowa's arm roughly, and turned him, jabbing the barrel of his gun into Trowa's ribs. Despite the bruising force of that action, Trowa didn't flinch. "Start moving toward the hangars, Lieutenant Merquise will meet us on the runway."

Sensing that the OZ soldier escorting him would take advantage of any opportunity Trowa gave him to inflict injury - or even death; the pilot remained silent and began walking. Behind him the pitch of the Aries' engines became a laboured whine. They were probably trying to move his Gundam. Where to, Trowa couldn't be sure. But he'd have to do his best to keep track of the machine to improve his chances of escaping with it later. Sooner would be preferable to later; the protection of this OZ Lieutenant would last only as long as his superiors allowed it. Depending on the charity of their feelings, Trowa's life expectancy could be dwindling rapidly.

An open-topped military jeep was approaching and the OZ soldier jerked Trowa to a stop. Trowa sensed the man holding him snap to attention - despite his hands being occupied - as the jeep came to a rapid stop. Two other OZ soldiers clambered out quickly to help restrain Trowa. One pulled a pair of heavy handcuffs out and pulled Trowa's arms together in front of the boy to clamp them on. Through this Trowa remained relaxed and unthreatening while he observed the third passenger of the jeep who exited the vehicle more slowly.

__

Lieutenant Zechs Merquise. The tall man wore the bright red jacket, sword, and high boots of a senior OZ officer. A peculiar masked helmet covered most of his face revealing only a fine, set jaw and long blond hair. _He's not the typical OZ officer_, Trowa noted. _I bet his story is an interesting one._ Lieutenant Merquise carried himself with an air of aristocratic dignity and authority that was consistent with what Trowa knew of the hierarchy and history of the OZ organisation; the respect afforded him by the other three officers was palpable, and yet, something about this Lieutenant was too aloof and distant - more so than Trowa would have expected for a successful leader.

It was difficult to tell where the Lieutenant's attention was fixed, but Trowa didn't think it was on him. Rather the man seemed to be looking past him, perhaps watching the recovery efforts of the Aries suits. Trowa waited patiently. Presently, Lieutenant Merquise turned to face Trowa directly. A few long strides brought the man to stand only a few feet in front of him, and Trowa found himself subjected to a silent, enigmatic evaluation under the man's masked regard. 

Thin lips quirked into a phantom smile before the Lieutenant spoke with the chill courtesy of nobility, "I believe we shall have much to discuss, Gundam pilot." 

*********

~_to be continued_

*********

Next on 'Domino'

EPISODE FOUR – DAWN AT VICTORIA

Heero takes advantage of Duo's hospitality. While meeting for dinner, Quatre and Relena's different attitudes regarding pacifism lead to a disagreement fueled by their individual concern over the fate of the Gundam pilots. Meanwhile, Trowa is interrogated by Lt Zechs Merquise and Wufei launches his attack against the OZ base at Victoria. 

*********

Notes:

[1] A scheduled side fic to episodes 6 and 7

*********


	5. Episode 4

"Domino" Episode 4

A Gundam Wing AU by Anne and Raletha

Feedback:

Anne: anneo @ paradise.net.nz

Raletha: geekpuella @ yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. We are not making any money from this, though we do admit to having fun and losing a lot of sleep. 

Summary: While meeting for dinner, Quatre and Relena's different attitudes regarding pacifism lead to a disagreement fueled by their individual concern over the fate of the Gundam pilots. Trowa, enroute to Kenya in the custody of Lt Zechs Merquise, battles the effects of his injuries, and Heero and Wufei receive new orders. 

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Eventual 3x4x3, 1x2x1.

Warnings: action, violence, language, angst

Archive:

Notes: Just a reminder, the premise of this canon based AU is answering the question, "What if Quatre had made a different decision and not become Sandrock's pilot?"

************

Opening Credits

"Got you!" Duo appears from behind a pile of cardboard packing boxes. He is struggling to maintain his grip on something large and furry. 

Rummaging through the box on the floor by his feet, Quatre throws Duo a carrot. "Here, this might help." 

"Thanks," Duo lowers the rabbit into its pen and then wipes his hands down his trousers. "That carrot's all sticky."

"It's the lemon juice," Quatre smirks, "from Sakura's care parcel." He indicates the envelopes on the table. "You're supposed to be helping with these, remember?" 

"And you're supposed to be helping with the unpacking," Trowa cuts in from the other side of the room. "We promised to have all these books sorted before they got back." 

"All of them?" Heero raises an eyebrow. 

"Hmm?" Wufei glances up from the book he is reading. "Maybe if you got your nose out of those computer books…"

"So says the guy who's spent the last hour quoting passages from Middle English texts," Duo laughs. "How did Rel manage to escape?"

"She offered to help them redesign this room – the episodes are now going to be shorter and posted at six weekly intervals." Quatre frowns. "I hope the readers understand why there's been such a long time since the last one." 

"I'm sure they will," Trowa walks over to give his lover a hug. "After all an international shift is a big thing and both Anne and Raletha have been really busy with Real Life lately."

The door to the Domino green room opens and Raletha, Anne and Relena enter, shaking water off their coats. "Nearly finished, boys?" Raletha asks.

"We need to have those thank you notes ready to send out with the new episode," Anne reminds them. 

"I've done mine," Quatre clears his throat, "and I've done Duo's as well." 

"Duo!" Raletha chastises. "After all we've done to…er… for you lately." 

"But I didn't get any point of view in this episode!" Duo pouts. "And neither did Cat."

"We'll make it up to you in the next one," Anne promises. She takes the pile of cards from Quatre and reads aloud. "Lady Bast, Ruth, Sakura and Lorena …Thanks for your help and beta reading comments for this episode."

Enjoy the episode!

************

~previously~

An open-topped military jeep was approaching and the OZ soldier jerked Trowa to a stop. Trowa sensed the man holding him snap to attention - despite his hands being occupied - as the jeep came to a rapid stop. Two other OZ soldiers clambered out quickly to help restrain Trowa. One pulled a pair of heavy handcuffs out and pulled Trowa's arms together in front of the boy to clamp them on. Through this Trowa remained relaxed and unthreatening while he observed the third passenger of the jeep who exited the vehicle more slowly.

__

Lieutenant Zechs Merquise. The tall man wore the bright red jacket, sword, and high boots of a senior OZ officer. A peculiar masked helmet covered most of his face revealing only a fine, set jaw and long blond hair. _He's not the typical OZ officer_, Trowa noted. _I bet his story is an interesting one._ Lieutenant Merquise carried himself with an air of aristocratic dignity and authority that was consistent with what Trowa knew of the hierarchy and history of the OZ organisation; the respect afforded him by the other three officers was palpable, and yet, something about this Lieutenant was too aloof and distant - more so than Trowa would have expected for a successful leader.

It was difficult to tell where the Lieutenant's attention was fixed, but Trowa didn't think it was on him. Rather the man seemed to be looking past him, perhaps watching the recovery efforts of the Aries suits. Trowa waited patiently. Presently, Lieutenant Merquise turned to face Trowa directly. A few long strides brought the man to stand only a few feet in front of him, and Trowa found himself subjected to a silent, enigmatic evaluation under the man's masked regard. 

Thin lips quirked into a phantom smile before the Lieutenant spoke with the chill courtesy of nobility, "I believe we shall have much to discuss, Gundam pilot." 

***********

The human race has ventured out from the Earth, seeking to build a future in the space colonies. But under the banner of justice and peace, the United Earth Sphere Alliance has seized control of these colonies, using its superior military power. 

It is the year After Colony 195.

However, a few colonists rebel against this oppression and send new weapons to the Earth, disguised as shooting stars. But the Alliance has discovered the existence of Operation Meteor…

************

EPISODE FOUR - DAWN AT VICTORIA – Part One

************

Dinner with Quatre got off to a rocky start. The Winner heir ended up being a good fifteen minutes late, leaving Relena fidgeting irritably in the restaurant's foyer, completely immune to the charms of the handsome young bartender who plied her darkening mood with Shirley Temples. But when Quatre arrived, breezing in with his bright smile and an apology - which took the form of a bouquet of flowers and a kiss on the cheek - her annoyance vanished and she was once again pleased they had decided to meet this way.

Though they had both been chagrined by the attention of the press at first, they soon realised that it did give them the opportunity to meet frequently to discuss more sensitive issues. Quatre had already expressed grave concern about them being linked to the two escaped Gundam pilots, so they had adopted the facade of romantic involvement to divert unwanted attention.

It was a fun ruse, Relena decided. Quatre was a perfect gentleman: urbane, handsome, and solicitous - certainly a far more interesting dinner companion than any of the boys who flirted with her at school. Braving her so-called girlfriends on Monday would be a different story, but for now, she smiled graciously at her companion as they were shown to a table by the window, and thanked the _maitre'd_ when he pulled out her chair to seat her.

"You look lovely this evening," Quatre said once they'd been left in privacy.

"Oh!" she said, her face heating as she glanced self-consciously at the pale yellow dress she'd chosen for the evening. Her mother had deemed it too short and revealing, but had allowed her to wear the slip dress on the proviso that Relena also wear her crocheted cardigan - so as not to leave her arms inappropriately bare during dinner. "Thank you. You look very nice too," she smiled. He wore a three-button suit in a rich steel blue over a pale grey shirt and an abstractly patterned tie of violet, navy, and cream. 

"Thank _you_," his smile broadened. "This place was a good suggestion, Relena. It's very nice." She followed his gaze as it traveled the candlelit room. Only a few other tables were taken, and the murmur of conversation was barely audible, muffled by the tables draped heavily in linen, the velvet upholstery; and obscured gently by the soft strains of violin music.

"It's one of my favourite places," she said, recalling the lunch she had shared wither her mother before her trip to the Colonies. "Although the view is better during the day. The gardens, this time of year, are beautiful."

"I can imagine they are," Quatre replied before their initial small talk fell into silence.

"Um, so," Relena began, unfolding her linen napkin to smooth it across her lap, "it must be wonderful coming from a family with such noble ideals."

Quatre continued to smile, but it wasn't an entirely easy smile now. "It's... interesting," he said in a bland tone, a tone which roused Relena's curiosity.

"Interesting?" she echoed, before speaking brightly, "I think it's wonderful how you've managed to hold on to the ideals of Pacifism in the colonies, despite the hardships. I wish there were more people like that here, on Earth."

"There have been, but I suspect they're all dead now - either in spirit or actuality."

"What do you mean?"

"Pacifism doesn't tend to foster survival." Quatre spoke the words in a weary tone - as if he'd said them many times before, but their full significance eluded her.

"I don't understand." She frowned, confused by Quatre's sudden seeming cynicism. "Your family is one of the most noted supporters of Total Pacifism in the colonies."

"I know," Quatre glanced down, fingering the stem of his water glass as he tilted it this way and that. "But we don't all feel exactly the same way."

"You don't believe in peace?"

"Oh, I believe in peace. What I don't believe in is rolling over for the enemy." Bitterness had entered his voice. 

Taken aback, Relena sat silently as the waiter served their salads, stammering her thanks as he left. She turned once again to Quatre. "That's not what Pacifism is about," she told him, but she wasn't that sure of her words.

"Oh? Would you care to explain it to me then?" Quatre's smile was far too polite as he continued with a flourish of his salad fork, plucking a glistening selection of greens from his plate. "I am rather clueless about the entire concept after all."

With a wary look at Quatre, Relena picked up her own fork. This was a side of him she had certainly not seen before. Undaunted, she rallied her own aristocratic tone, tossed her hair, and replied, "I doubt that. I merely felt you were mischaracterising the philosophy with your flip comment."

"I don't believe I was being flip, Relena," Quatre's tone grew more earnest; his words more serious. "A true Pacifist must be willing to stand by, idle, while everyone they love, everything they hold dear is destroyed. I'm not convinced that's a position of strength." 

Her father had always told her peace was the goal of all his work, and that a real, lasting peace must be brought about through non-violent means, but before she could rally her thoughts to respond to Quatre, he spoke again. "Growing up, I've watched the freedom and prosperity of the colonies be chipped away bit by bit while the men of power - men like my father - did nothing."

"But peace has to start somewhere," she protested as she speared a small tomato and accumulated her thoughts to respond. "If we ever want a true peace between Earth and the Colonies, people have to stop resorting to violence to solve their disputes." She sniffed. "I think it's noble to take such a strong stance against violence."

"Noble? That may be, but you have yet to have that conviction tested. Sometimes, as unfortunate as it is, fighting is the only way to be heard, the only way for people to defend themselves. Other methods, talking - diplomacy - they only work when all sides are willing to both talk and listen. Diplomacy will never work with parties who barely acknowledge each other's humanity."

"Then maybe they have to try harder?" Relena was pleased to keep the petulant edge from her voice. "I fail to see how killing people could ever make a bad situation better. All it _will_ do is hurt people, make them angry, and drive them toward revenge. Revenge leads to more anger, more violence, more hatred."

Quatre shook his head. "I wasn't advocating indiscriminate violence or vengeful acts. I do believe if there is to be fighting, then it must be for a higher purpose. It must be strongly focused on achieving a greater good - like peace and freedom. If you aren't willing to fight and die for those things, how much do you really value them?"

"Freedom shouldn't have to be fought for. Peace shouldn't have to be fought for. Those are rights intrinsic to all people. Everyone has the right to be free and live in peace. Fighting is the thing that threatens them. It certainly doesn't secure them."

"Intrinsic rights? They're pretty words, but just that - words. There's nothing intrinsic about any human rights. You need only look at how quickly they can be stripped away to realise that. For every right you would bestow upon people, someone has to shoulder the responsibility for granting that right - for preserving and protecting it." He paused for a moment. "If a government doesn't take it upon itself to meet that responsibility, someone else must.

"For example," Quatre lowered his voice as he continued, "the Gundams. They're the ones trying to give freedom and peace back to the colonies. No one in the colonies is free right now. Do you think what they're doing is wrong?"

Relena thought of Heero. "Well, yes, part of me certainly does. It might seem noble and brave for them to be doing what they're doing, but consider the human cost! Not just on the people they kill or the families and friends of the people they kill, but on the pilots themselves. They're so young. It's not right that people be forced into positions where they have to kill."

"Is it right to force people into positions where they cannot communicate freely, access information, or, in some cases even feed their families? Is it right to orphan hundreds, maybe thousands of children in the process of conquest? Is it right to enslave tens of thousands of people merely for the economic gain of a few wealthy Earth nations?"

"No, of course it's not right, but..." she didn't get a chance to finish that thought since her companion cut her off, his words spoken with a vehemence that made her flinch.

"It's easy to embrace - from a position of physical freedom, security, and comfort - a philosophy like Total Pacifism, but I would challenge you to live under political oppression and fear and still hold to it."

Relena felt herself growing hot. Was he accusing her of hypocrisy? "But..." she interjected, failing to keep the anger from her voice. 

Quatre ignored her; his only acknowledgement of her protestation was the raising of his voice. "Could you stand by and watch a child be killed, knowing that you could have done something to stop it? Could you-?"

Relena brought her hand down on the edge of the table, hard enough to make their plates rattle. Quatre blinked in surprise. "May I speak, please, Quatre?" she bit each word off in a cold tone.

"Of course," he said, suddenly contrite as he glanced away in embarrassment. "My apologies. I didn't mean to get quite so carried away."

"It is true. I have led a sheltered life. But I'm not stupid or completely ignorant." She softened her tone, "I have traveled to the Colonies. I've seen the people there. Most of them are peaceful and hardworking and have no desire for bloodshed. I'm not sure the Gundams are right to start a war in their name."

"They haven't. We don't know for sure who is behind Operation M."

"But we do know they're fighting for the freedom of the Colonies. Attacking the Alliance is only going to cause more harm to the Colonies though, when the Alliance retaliates. Didn't the people who built the Gundams think of the repercussions?"

Quatre shrugged. "Since the Gundams are fighting independently - without sanction from the Colonies, they're - at worst - terrorists. Even on Earth, the Alliance can't spin punishing the Colonies for the actions of a few rogue agents. If you fight terrorists by killing innocent people, you become a terrorist yourself. This is possibly the only way the Colonies can fight a war against the Alliance and protect their citizens. They don't have the resources for a more honourable form of combat."

"Maybe, but how does this terrorism foster peace? Is killing more people really supposed to help? Two wrongs don't make a right. Even if the Alliance are the bad guys, it's still not right to kill its men."

"The aggressors in a conflict bring violence against themselves. They - the Alliance - made a choice to brutalise people. If those people fight back in defense, it is due to the actions of the aggressors. I refuse to view the Alliance as the victim here. So far, the Gundams have limited their attacks to military targets. They're fighting as fairly as they can."

"It just..." she sighed. "It doesn't feel right to me. For each man killed, you end up with more soldiers - his comrades in arms - wanting to keep fighting, to kill out of revenge. That's not all, you also have increased political support for Alliance aggression against the Colonies which results from the civilians affected."

"It's true that the Colonies would have a hard time winning a PR war on Earth with all the government sponsored propaganda. But I do believe that most people on Earth, if given the facts and the chance to decide freely for themselves, would prefer to see the Colonies relieved from the yoke of oppression. I mean, there are so many countries on Earth under Alliance oppression too. At times I think..." Quatre trailed off with a thoughtful frown.

"You think what?"

"I think the Earth itself is on the brink of revolution. There will be war, Relena. I'm certain of it."

"Do you really believe there's no hope?"

"There's always hope. But things may very well get a lot worse before they get better. So what do you do then?"

Quatre's question was aimed at her, yet Relena wasn't certain he was asking her what she would do, or for her advice on what he should do. "Fight the war by not fighting," she answered slowly. "At least that's what I'd try to do. Men like Gandhi showed the power of passive resistance. No matter how committed a soldier is, there's a big difference between shooting an armed opponent and shooting a peaceful protester."

Relena found herself regarded thoughtfully for a time until Quatre replied softly, "I'm not like Gandhi."

They ate in awkward silence with Relena picking at the pastry of the mushroom tart she'd been served while Quatre studiously attended to his own meal. Just as Relena's tolerance for the tension between them was reaching breaking point, Quatre finally spoke, "I really should apologise again for earlier. You must think me an utter bastard."

"Hm? No, not really. I think it's nice that you're so passionate about your beliefs. We can be mature enough to agree to disagree, can we not?"

"Of course."

"You have given me a lot to think about. I appreciate that. My father tells me things are often not as black and white as we would like them to be. I don't want to be naive, but maybe I am...?" she trailed off with a scowl.

"No, don't think that, Relena." Quatre reached across the table to place his hand on hers. "The world does truly need people like you. As you said before, peace has to start somewhere. Someone has to make a stand against violence. Why not you? But it's not easy." Quatre sighed and withdrew his hand. "Believe it or not, out of respect for my family and my father, I am trying to do so myself. It's frustrating though. I feel like there's so much more I could do if I only had the courage to do it."

"What do you mean? You would fight?"

"I don't know. I truly don't. I do know that sometimes I..." He gave a nervous smile. "I think I might envy those pilots."

************

Trowa closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on banishing the heaving in his gut. He wished the jagged buzzing in his head would stop. It was too hard to focus on the people around him, but he had to focus; the whine of the MS carrier's engines wasn't helping. He stifled a groan when rough hands tightened the straps holding him in his seat.

"Kid," came a cold voice, close to him. It was the only warning Trowa had before a slap stung his face. "I asked you a question."

It was a struggle, but Trowa lifted his head and opened his eyes. His vision swam, still lagging in a most sickening way when he moved. He swallowed, gritted his teeth, and turned his head to look at the man addressing him. The burning skin of his cheek at least gave him something sharp and tangible on which to anchor his consciousness.

"What's your name?"

Though he tried to meet the man's eyes, Trowa found his eyes kept slipping to the collar of the OZ officer's uniform. It was easier to focus on this than watch the man's features wander all over his face. The stitching on the man's jacket twisted along the edges of the hem like a red and gold snake. It reminded Trowa of... 

That thought fractured as a rough hand grabbed his hair and jerked his head back. His stomach tried to crawl up the back of this throat while his brain pounded on the inside of his skull.

"Hey, I'm talking to you. What's your name?"

His jaw protested when he opened his mouth for speech; his tongue felt thick and dry as he groped for a name to go with the face of the man glaring at him. "Walker?" he croaked.

"_Your_ name, you fu..." Trowa watched the man raise his hand as if in slow motion, but the blow never landed. A new voice entered the mix.

"Stand down, Ensign." The new voice belonged to the one called Walker. Trowa almost smiled at his success.

The man who had been questioning him snapped to attention. "Lieutenant!"

Trowa let his head loll forward and studied the smooth metal of the cuffs around his forearms. The metal was glossy and dark; he couldn't readily identify the alloy.

"Lieutenant Merquise ordered that the prisoner be treated with respect. I advise you to follow that order."

"Yes, sir."

"Go find some water, he doesn't look too hot. We'll need to be careful if we want to get any information out of him."

"Yes, sir!"

Cool fingertips touched his temple, and Trowa flinched away from them, immediately regretting the sudden move as a new wave of nausea swelled. 

"I'm not going to hurt you," said Walker. The words may have been reassuring, but the tone in which they were delivered was not. "You probably have a concussion."

"Yes," Trowa managed through his clenched teeth, suddenly needing to convey to _anyone_ the urge uncoiling in his belly. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"If you want to vomit, go ahead. But I'm not going to unstrap you until I'm ordered to do so." Walker stepped away from him to sit in another seat nearby. "Do you know where you are? Do you remember your name?"

__

Remember my name? The words tumbled, meaningless, through Trowa's head while he panted and sweated, desperate to keep from losing the meagre contents of his stomach.

Then realisation dawned through the haze of his disorientation. Amnesia was a potential symptom of a severe concussion - whether retrograde or anterograde [1]; he could use this to his advantage. He didn't remember his name anyway, so to say 'no' would be the truth. He nearly laughed, except such an action would have jarred too much.

"Do you remember your name?' Walker asked again, speaking slowly.

"No," Trowa whispered in response, closing his eyes and trying to relax in his restraints now that the most recent bout of nausea had subsided. "Sorry."

Walker didn't speak again immediately, but when he started to, the commanding voice of Zechs Merquise cut him off. The senior officer's words pierced through the engine hum as the man entered the aircraft. "Apparently he's called Trowa Barton,"

"Barton?" asked Walker. "Are you sure, sir?"

Trowa cracked an eye open to see the other men sitting and fastening their seat restraints in preparation for take-off. The steps of the carrier's pilots rang up the external stairs before they entered the cockpit to take their own seats.

"No, I'm not," said Zechs, and Trowa found himself uncomfortable under the masked gaze.

Fortunately that attention was diverted as the carrier was secured for takeoff. No one addressed him again until they had reached cruising altitude, and Trowa began to wonder if he were ever going to get that drink of water. He imagined the ensign standing on the runway, water in hand, protesting the takeoff of the carrier.

In the absence of any other available course of action, he forced himself to listen carefully to the radio traffic and to the men around him. Trowa catalogued the information, mentally repeating everything to himself to reinforce it. There were two carriers. This one carried a suit called Tallgeese and was Lieutenant Zech's personal craft. Heavyarms had been loaded into a second carrier that followed them. They were headed to the Lake Victoria Base with an ETA of five and a half hours. An old classmate of Zech's was the chief instructor there, a Lieutenant Noin, who claimed that Zechs had come to be known as the Lightening Baron, a title the man seemed to protest. Trowa filed this information especially away for later. Zechs Merquise had enough invested in his own ego and image - the mask, the aloofness, the admiration of his men - it could be exploited later. Perhaps.

So they were headed to Kenya. Trowa fumbled through his scattered concentration trying to dredge up everything - anything - he knew that would be helpful. They trained pilots at Lake Victoria - pilots for space combat in the new Taurus suits that were built there.

"Trowa Barton, is it?" Zechs was addressing him. Trowa opened his eyes and was relieved that his vision had steadied considerably, although pain still clawed the inside of his head.

"You may call me that if you wish," Trowa spoke softly in reply, watching Zechs carefully as the man unfastened his seat belt and rose to approach him. 

"Would you like some water?"

Unwilling to allow Zechs any weakness to exploit, Trowa nevertheless spoke a quiet, "Yes." He had to somehow remain useful to the man while not divulging too much information. Not that he had _that _much to divulge...

"Here." Trowa found the lip of a cup pressed to his lips. He was permitted a few sips before the cup was taken away. "Now," Zechs began, sitting opposite Trowa and crossing his long legs. "What can tell me about the Gundams?"

Trowa moistened his lips, frowned in confusion, and asked, "Gundams?"

"There are at least four of them, including yours. I want to know what you know about them. In particular, what can you tell me about the one that landed near the Yangtze River?"

__

He's not buying it. "I- I don't know." This much was only partly true. Trowa had tracked three other Gundams through news items and hacked Alliance transmissions. The Gundam in China had been the easiest to keep tabs on; the other two had been more elusive. He wasn't even certain both were still intact. Doktor S has said there were meant to be five Gundams supporting Operation Meteor. Whether they were allies or not remained to be seen, but they were all combating Alliance interests.

"What about the acts of treason you mentioned in your flight recorder?"

"I don't..." Trowa bowed his head in apparent despair. "I don't remember."

"Interesting." Zech's tone was skeptical; Trowa kept his eyes lowered. "Perhaps you'll choose to remember later. It is in your own best interests to do so." The man stood. "For now, you may rest."

************

Heero resisted the urge to shift again. His bones still ached - especially his femur. It was the ache he'd come to associate with healing, but that knowledge didn't make the pain any easier to bear. As used to it as he'd become, it still interfered with his ability to sleep or rest (which would be perhaps the best thing to do while his body healed). Instead, Heero had found that the best way to deal with the physical pain was to keep his mind occupied. Wing had taken enough damage that concentrating on cataloguing the suit's required repairs kept his mind occupied. Almost.

Two things made it more difficult for him to focus on his task and ignore the itching ache of his bones. The first was to be expected. His muscles were hell bent on cramping painfully at every opportunity. J had warned him that overstressing the augmented tissue would result in stiffness and cramps, but this was the first time Heero had actually experienced it. He straightened his left leg and leaned over it a little to relieve the cramping in his hamstring.

And there was his 'host', Duo. Duo Maxwell talked incessantly: whether it was to gather intelligence or because he couldn't keep his thoughts contained within his own head, Heero wasn't sure. The result, however, was that every time he'd managed to find some respite from his discomfort, the other boy would pipe up with questions or commentary.

No sooner had Heero isolated the problem with the insulating tiles under the front of his suit's armor than Duo decided to make another attempt at being helpful. Heero tried to ignore him, but the other pilot was persistent.

"Hey? Hey! Listen up!"

"Insulation levels in the chest panel are down to 2800," Heero spoke aloud to himself so that his ears could focus on his own voice and the current diagnostic data.

"HEY! You, Superman! I'm talking to you."

Heero didn't respond in the hope that Duo would leave.

"Yes, you there. What the hell are you doing? Why do you have to be so goddamned stubborn? I _told_ you, it'll be way easier if you let Howard and his guys repair your suit alongside mine."

With a sigh, Heero relented and spoke, "I don't want any strangers touching my suit. That's all." He couldn't fathom why Duo even wanted to help him. Despite the similarities of their suits, Heero was unwilling to count the other pilot an ally. He'd never worked with a partner on a mission, and he saw no reason to start now.

"Oh, come _on_! You don't even have replacement parts." Duo's voice drew closer as Heero heard him jump up onto Wing behind him. His muscles tensed in preparation to remove the other boy from his suit - forcefully if need be. Duo continued in a tone laden with sarcasm, oblivious to the danger in which he placed himself. "No matter how good an engineer you are, if you don't have the parts, you can't make the repairs. Your suit's not like your arms and legs, understand?"

Heero ignored him as best he was able, bending his head to stretch an uncooperative neck muscle. He heard Duo sigh in momentary defeat and, in his peripheral vision, saw the boy drop to a sitting position.

"What was I _thinking_ when I saved this guy's life? Antisocial, stubborn, _and_ creepy. God, what a dork."

Heero wasn't sure if he were being called a dork, or if the statement were self-directed. He pinched his eyes shut, while Duo continued, turning his words to Heero once more.

"If I were you, man? I'd hate my personality so much I'd try to kill myself too."

With a frown, Heero turned his head to look at Duo. The boy was seated, kicking his legs against Wing in exasperation and glaring at his feet. What did this idiot know about him? If only it were that easy. "Hey!" he finally addressed Duo.

"Oh, what is it? Changed your mind, huh?" Duo looked up at him with an annoyed grimace. "Well it's too late now..."

"Will you just shut up for a while?"

Duo blinked, his expression momentarily blank before he slumped forward and slid to the ground. "Yeah, whatever," he said, his tone flat. "Sorry to bother you..."

A sound Heero was beginning to dread interrupted: the alarm associated with a new mission. He had to obey it.

Without further thought, he leaped up and slid down into Wing's open cockpit. He settled in the seat, upside down and tapped the comm panel. A message from J. He scanned the orders quickly, oblivious to Duo peering down from his perch at the cockpit hatch.

"A new mission," Heero spoke, readying a voice message reply, and evaluating his options for getting Wing serviceable by the morning. He would find a way. "The enemy will be transporting gundanium alloy." A small part of Heero was curious to know how the Alliance had come by so much gundanium, but he didn't need to question the orders from J. That these were his orders was enough. Heero relaxed a little in the knowledge that he had something left to do, just as part of him silently hoped this would be the last mission. "Roger," he told the computer, "I will intercept the carrier tomorrow morning."

He stared at the screen while it reported the progress of his message as it encrypted and sent the data off to J.

"How are you going to do that with this beat up suit, huh? You can't do anything," Duo said from above. Something in his voice made Heero pause. The boy's words were softer with an emotion Heero couldn't identify. He shook his head; it was pointless to dwell on such things. Fortunately, he had the beginnings of a plan to get Wing ready for combat. As Duo had been so insistent to point out earlier, their suits were nearly identical. Scavenging parts was a viable option; he needed only wait for Duo, Howard, and the other men on the barge to succumb to sleep.

He almost smiled. "Maybe you can't. But I can."

************

Wufei glanced toward the trees where Nataku lay hidden in her bedding of camouflage net. It was peaceful here, the plaintive cry of the solo kestrel echoing through the valley as it continued its aerial reconnaissance. He shaded his eyes against the sun; the large rock he'd climbed provided him with an excellent view of the area.

__

/It's so beautiful. I've never looked at flowers this way before./ 

Why had Meiran only seen the harmony and balance in nature, as she'd lain dying in his arms? He'd buried her amongst those flowers she'd fought to save from being trampled. She'd had the strength to fight for their clan; it was only right that he carried on that fight now that she couldn't. 

He sighed. In taking on this mission he'd merely exchanged one field of flowers for another. With Nataku's help he would save the world from its own insanity and restore the balance within that humanity currently lacked. This war needed to end and the fools insisting on supplying the means to continue it, destroyed. 

  
Upon leaving the Indus Supply base, his orders had been straightforward – to destroy the training establishment at Lake Victoria, thus removing the threat of both OZ troops and the suits they were being trained to pilot. 

  
However, before he'd reached Kenya, those instructions had been modified. Wufei was not about to waste his energy figuring out how exactly a Gundam pilot had permitted both himself and his mecha to be captured, but agreed that the breach of security needed to be dealt with promptly. 

  
The original plan had been simple – plant explosives under the cover of darkness and blow the base before dawn. Unfortunately the increase in security accompanying the Gundam pilot to Lake Victoria had made it impossible to get close enough to do so. 

  
This new scenario held more of a challenge than the previous one – Wufei had not anticipated any problems in an enemy consisting of raw recruits with no experience. He still did not anticipate any problems. 

A full on attack would at least give them the opportunity to fight like the warriors they had chosen to be. So far those he opposed had persisted in underestimating him; it was a misconception that would prove to be their downfall. 

At dawn he and Nataku would attack the base and destroy anything or anyone who opposed them. 

  
************

Notes:

[1] Retrograde amnesia is the loss of prior memories (largely effects long term memories); anterograde amnesia is the inability to lay down new memories (largely effects short term memory & learning).

************

To be continued

************

Next on Domino 

EPISODE FIVE – DAWN AT VICTORIA - Part Two. 

Quatre contemplates his options while thinking over recent events. Trowa is interrogated by Lt Zechs Merquise, and Wufei launches his attack against the OZ base at Victoria. 


	6. Episode 5 Dawn at Victoria Part Two

Domino (5/?)

by Anne

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. I promise to return the characters in one piece, more or less, when I'm finished, but hold no liability for any broken bones or psychological trauma sustained by them in my fiction.

Summary: Quatre indulges his curiosity in some amateur hacking on OZ. Meanwhile, Trowa is interrogated by Zechs and Victoria Base's chief instructor, Lieutenant Noin.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Eventual 3x4, 1x2.

Warnings: action, violence, language, angst

Archive: 

Notes: Just a reminder, the premise of this canon based AU is answering the question, "What if Quatre had made a different decision and not become Sandrock's pilot?"

Send comments to: anneo 

Opening Credits

"It's crowded here," Duo glances around their new premises and frowns. "I still don't see why we had to move again. I kind of liked the Green Room."

"Raletha and Anne have split all their projects," Quatre explains. "And as Anne is writing Domino now, it's easier for her to work from home."

"Hmm," Heero comments from in front of the computer. "Have you seen the new plans for this story?" He shakes his head. "It's certainly different to what I read the last time I hacked into her computer."

"Let me guess," Trowa interrupts with a grin. "Cliffhangers, angst and Quatre in handcuffs?"

"Where?" Quatre pushes Heero out of the way and scans the word document. "Figures," he snorts. "Hmm, you're right, Heero. The plottage for the future episodes is quite different to…"

"Quatre!" An angry shout comes from the direction of the kitchen. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You know that my computer is out of bounds." Anne enters the living room, her eyes scanning the room. "Do I have to remind you boys about my house rules?"

"House rules?" says Duo, giving her an innocent looking smile. "You have house rules?"

Wufei chuckles. "Of course she has house rules. She's a mother. All mothers have house rules."

"Mothers /and/ fanfic writers," Anne mutters under her breath. "It's almost impossible to keep muses under control, but I like to go through the motions anyway." She counts off on her fingers. "No hacking the computer. No touching the halo or the pink stick. No unauthorised trips through the Stargate. No touching Methos's sword. He gets pissy if people touch his sword, and I won't protect you if he finds out."

"But Methos wouldn't…" Quatre protests. He likes Methos and has shared quite a few interesting discussions with both him and Daniel since they arrived. There is a lot to be said for sharing a house with a fanfic writer who dabbles in several fandoms and writes crossovers.

"Methos wouldn't what?" A familiar immortal enters the room, a can of beer in one hand. "You may look but not touch." Methos takes a swig of beer. "Do you want me to give Bast a message?" he asks Anne. "I'm just heading over there now. Seth is expecting me."

Anne gives the Gundam pilots a pointed look.

"Tell her thank you for beta reading," Quatre says. He bends down and picks up three bouquets of flowers. "Wufei and I are going to come with you for part of the journey. I'm going to Ruth's and Wufei is going home to haraamis so we can thank them for beta reading as well."

There is a flash of light and two people appear in front of them. "Hi, Shadow," Anne waves. "Misanagi, did you enjoy the trip?"

"I'm still not getting sucked into your fandom." Misanagi shakes her head. "And teleporting me here for coffee isn't going to work."

Shadow and Anne exchange an amused look. "Right. Sure," says Shadow. She smiles sweetly at Anne and all the muses shudder in unison.

Trowa is the first to recover. "I'll go make the coffee," he announces. "It's the least I can do for you after all your stalking…er…help."

Enjoy the episode!

Previously on Domino

Upon leaving the Indus Supply base, his orders had been straightforward – to destroy the training establishment at Lake Victoria, thus removing the threat of both OZ troops and the suits they were being trained to pilot.

However, before he'd reached Kenya, those instructions had been modified. Wufei was not about to waste his energy figuring out how exactly a Gundam pilot had permitted both himself and his mecha to be captured, but he agreed that the breach of security needed to be dealt with promptly.

The original plan had been simple: plant explosives under the cover of darkness and blow the base before dawn. Unfortunately, the increase in security accompanying the Gundam pilot to Lake Victoria had made it impossible to get close enough to do so.

This new scenario held more of a challenge than the previous one, but Wufei did not anticipate any problems in an enemy consisting of raw recruits with no experience.

A full on attack would at least give them the opportunity to fight like the warriors they had chosen to be. So far, those he opposed had persisted in underestimating him; it was a misconception that would prove to be their downfall.

At dawn, he and Nataku would attack the base and destroy anything or anyone who opposed them.

The human race has ventured out from the Earth, seeking to build a future in the space colonies. But under the banner of justice and peace, the United Earth Sphere Alliance has seized control of these colonies, using its superior military power.

It is the year After Colony 195.

However, a few colonists rebel against this oppression and send new weapons to the Earth, disguised as shooting stars. But the Alliance has discovered the existence of Operation Meteor…

EPISODE FIVE - DAWN AT VICTORIA – Part Two

Quatre rolled over in bed, glanced at the clock again and groaned. Only five minutes had passed since the last time he had looked at it. Reaching a decision, he threw his bedclothes back and reached for his robe. Wrapping it around himself, he walked out to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. If the thoughts chasing each other through his mind were that determined not to let him sleep, he might as well give in to them and at least enjoy a hot drink at the same time.

Turning the heat on under the kettle, he searched the cupboard for the packet of chamomile tea. He needed rest, but he knew that he would have to work through some of what was troubling him before sleep could become a reality.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw images of the Gundam pilot surrendering at Corsica and heard himself repeating the words that he had told Relena at dinner.

"I believe in peace. What I don't believe in is rolling over for the enemy."

He had argued against Total Pacifism, believing that he couldn't sit back and do nothing, but wasn't that what he /was/ doing? H had asked him whether he was prepared to help fight to end the war and the bloodshed. Quatre had told him that he wasn't ready, that he wasn't the right person.

Had that changed? Had he changed?

Pouring the hot water over the tea, he waited impatiently for it to draw. His father had always preached pacifism, but although Quatre wanted to be a good son, he couldn't continue to follow his father's ideals in good conscience. But, while he agreed with Relena that, in principle, there should be a way to end the bloodshed without fighting, he wasn't sure what else could be done.

While he would like to believe that peace was obtainable through negotiation, Quatre suspected that mere words would not be enough to dissuade the Alliance to give up their position of power, a position that they had abused for far too long.

Was the aim of Operation Meteor to overthrow the Alliance? The Gundams seemed to be targeting Alliance and OZ bases and weapons factories. They hadn't directly attacked any civilians. Were they acting under orders from elsewhere or working together?

The two pilots he and Relena had seen at the hospital had escaped together, but that didn't necessarily mean that they had known each other beforehand. In fact, from what Relena had described had happened at the waterfront, it seemed very unlikely that they had. The other pilot had shot Heero; why then stage a risky rescue operation? Unless whoever had originally sent the Gundams to Earth had deemed it even more dangerous to leave Heero in the hands of the military?

Taking a sip of his tea, Quatre frowned, thinking again of the pilot at Corsica. He had asked Auda and Abdul to continue monitoring the area; perhaps they had discovered more information by now? He also needed to know the current whereabouts of the Gundam that had destroyed the Indus base. If those behind Operation Meteor had decided that Heero had been a high-risk loose end, how would they view the capture of both a pilot /and/ his Gundam?

Quatre headed back into his bedroom after leaving his cup of tea on the counter to cool. Booting up his email program, he was pleased to discover a message from Rashid. Hmm, the pilot and his mecha had been moved to the training facility at Lake Victoria. That made sense, especially after the damage that had been sustained at Corsica.

Entering more commands, he began sifting through the information that he had hacked from OZ's security system. Although he had downloaded it earlier, he hadn't had time to go through it properly because of his dinner date with Relena.

"Damn it," Quatre muttered half an hour later. The information he had didn't tell him anything that he hadn't already discovered through the Maguanacs. He glanced at his watch; the captured pilot should have arrived at Lake Victoria by now. If the officer in charge had filed a report to his superiors he would have done so either from that facility or via a secure line in transit.

Unable to resist the opportunity to find out more, Quatre typed in several more commands; it had not been that difficult to get a hook into the server used by the base at Victoria. Initiating another application he bypassed several firewalls and found a back door port that didn't appear to be monitored. Gaining access to their system, he began scanning their database for the information he required.

So, Lt. Merquise was the name of the officer who had taken the pilot into custody.

Quatre scanned further.

The captured pilot had given his name as Trowa Barton, but appeared to be suffering from amnesia. Quatre's eyes narrowed, and he re-read the report again. Wasn't Trowa the name of Dekim Barton's son?

Quatre shook his head, frowning as he attempted to remember what he had heard from his father about the Bartons. "Wait a minute," he muttered, scrolling up again as something else caught his eye.

The pilot only /appeared/ to be suffering from amnesia?

While watching the aftermath of the battle, Quatre had seen the pilot, Trowa, wince. If he had been in Trowa's place, he would have used an apparent injury to buy himself time to think of a way out. It was plausible that that could be what Trowa had done.

A red light began to flash on his screen.

Cursing under his breath, Quatre began disengaging the hook and erasing its presence from the server, so that it couldn't be traced. The light kept flashing, and he forced himself to remain calm, fingers moving over the keys rapidly as he left a false trail across cyberspace.

Finally, he was able to heave a sigh of relief. Glancing down at his hands, he noticed that they were shaking. The reaction had only hit him after he had known that he was safe. On some level he had enjoyed the thrill of the chase and the adrenaline rush that had come with it.

With access to this information, and his knowledge and connections to those playing in the political and social arenas, there was a way for him to join the fight after all.

Quatre smiled, his mind already thinking through strategies. Next time he would be more careful and not allow himself to be distracted by whatever he discovered until he was clear of their system. There would be a next time, of that much he was sure. In fact, he was already looking forward to it.

Noin paused at the door to Zechs' office. Despite what Zechs had told her, she found it difficult to believe that the captured Gundam pilot was so young.

Hopefully, someone slightly more approachable might be able to encourage the boy to be more forthcoming with information. Zechs had many qualities but tact wasn't one of them.

According to Zechs, the pilot was stubborn and only giving the barest of information. Surprisingly, he had not denied the name given on his flight recorder, especially as it tied him, and possibly his Gundam, to the Barton Foundation. Noin didn't believe in co-incidences; this pilot sharing the name of Dekim Barton's son was not something that could be dismissed lightly.

The Gundam pilot had suffered a nasty blow to the head, and that could account for some of his confusion, but Noin couldn't help but wonder if he was playing them for a fool. From the reports she had been given of his initial capture, his reactions had not been those of someone as confused as he had appeared to be later on the flight to Victoria. Yes, the reaction could have been delayed, but somehow she was not wholly convinced.

Knocking quickly, she entered the room. "Lt. Noin." Zechs gave her a nod, but didn't rise from his chair. Noin returned the nod with a curt one of her own and shifted her attention onto the Gundam pilot.

He met her gaze coolly, but it was impossible to read any expression on his face. If he was scared or nervous, he hid it well. When Zechs had told her that Trowa was a teenager she had expected someone of at least eighteen or nineteen. She would be surprised if he were older than fifteen or sixteen. While several of her cadets were younger than she would have liked, she was not impressed with whoever would send a child to fight an adult's battle. A momentarily surge of anger flared, but she didn't allow it to take control. What the hell were his superiors thinking? A battlefield was no place for someone his age.

"I'm Lt. Noin," she introduced herself. "And you are?"

"Trowa Barton, but you already know that." Trowa's voice was even, not rude, but not exactly polite either. Of course, being in restraints didn't tend to bring out the best in people.

"So you aren't denying that is your name?" Zechs raised one eyebrow. "Or is it merely the name you wish to use?"

Noin mentally rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

"It's the name on my flight recorder," Trowa replied simply. "Use it if you wish."

Zechs rose to his feet and walked around the desk so that he was directly opposite the pilot. Noin remained standing, although she had a suspicion that psychological games were not going to have much effect on the boy. He seemed too sure of himself, too calm. She wondered what exactly his training had entailed.

"Who are you working for?" Zechs leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. "What are the specifics of your mission?"

Not surprisingly, Trowa merely looked straight ahead and said nothing.

"I believe that Lt. Zechs asked you a question," Noin reminded him. "We don't wish to harm you, but co-operation would be in your best interests." She paused. Often changing to another subject could throw a prisoner off balance. "Who is Quatre?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Trowa's face, but he hid it quickly. "I don't know." His initial reaction suggested that he had heard the broadcast too, as did the way he had answered. Also, he had answered this question but ignored the previous one.

"Is he another Gundam pilot?" Zechs didn't change his posture but shifted his balance back and forth on the balls of his feet. He was more than just curious about these Gundams. Noin had seen the look in his eyes when he had described the mobile suit and what it had been capable of before it had been brought down.

"I don't know," Trowa repeated. Either he was lying, or he was not aware of the identities of the other pilots. The latter made more sense; in the event of the pilots being captured, they would not be deemed as high a risk with limited knowledge, if any, of their allies.

"There's a lot you don't know," Zechs commented, his tone suggesting that he didn't believe Trowa's response.

"My apologies." Trowa nodded slightly.

"What is Operation Meteor?" Noin sidestepped the growing antagonism by asking another question before Zechs could respond to Trowa's comment. "You mentioned it on your flight recorder, so denying knowledge of it is a waste of time. I'd also like to remind you, Mr. Barton, that you are under arrest for acts of treason and that you have killed several of our troops and destroyed OZ and Alliance property. There is no reason for us to do you any favours."

"I am fully aware of my present situation." Trowa held up his hands and nodded towards the cuffs around his wrists. "Nor do I expect you to do me any favours. Yes, I did refer to Operation Meteor in my flight recorder; as you've just pointed out, it would be foolish to deny that."

"Extremely foolish," Zechs agreed.

"However," Trowa continued. "As you would have also noted from my flight recorder, Operation Meteor is no more, therefore it is not a relevant topic for discussion."

"I think that's for us to decide," Zechs replied coldly. "As Lt. Noin has already pointed out, you are our prisoner, Gundam pilot. I suggest you keep that in mind."

"If you insist." Trowa leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"Operation Meteor," Zechs repeated. "What is it? Who built your Gundam? What is your connection to the Barton Foundation?"

Trowa opened his eyes again and met Zechs' glare directly. His eyes were cold, his voice deadly calm. "Operation Meteor has failed. I will not tell you who built my Gundam, and I do not have any connections to the Barton Foundation."

"Look, kid," Noin said. "I know you must be scared, even though you're hiding it well, and I have no idea what you think you're going to achieve by being difficult, but your attitude needs some serious work. If you help us, we can help you." She shrugged. "But if you insist on being uncooperative, our hands are tied."

"So are mine." Trowa's expression softened for the barest moment. "I think this interview is at an end. Don't you?"

"No, I don't," Zechs' eyes flashed. Noin put a warning hand on his arm, but he ignored her. He took a step closer to Trowa and slapped him across the face. Trowa didn't attempt to move away. Either the pilot was very brave or very foolish. "I have been very patient with you, but that patience is wearing thin. If you will not disclose the information to me, I'm sure there are others who will have more success in…"

Several explosions rocked the room, and whatever Zechs had been about to say was lost. Noin grabbed the side of the desk to steady herself. "Shit," she muttered under her breath. They were under attack. Was this an attempt to destroy the new Taurus'? Or another Gundam sent to retrieve their prisoner and his mecha?

Another explosion. Closer this time.

Zechs helped Trowa to his feet; the pilot had been thrown from his chair. "You can't hide behind that attitude forever."

"I suppose you'd know," Trowa replied, dryly.

"I need to get to the control room and find out what's going on." Noin headed for the door. She had not trained her soldiers to die but rather in the art of survival. Human life was too precious and any operation that carried that kind of risk was flawed.

When Zechs had arrived, she had increased security around the base and doubled the amount of personnel on watch. That these measures had not been enough pointed to the possibility that this was a Gundam attack. It was time to see first hand what these advanced mobile suits were like in combat.

"Traitor!"

Howard opened one eye slowly and forced himself out of his bunk. What the hell was the kid going on about now? He made his way out onto the deck and, realising that Duo wasn't there, followed the sound of loud cursing to the hanger. "Could you keep the noise level down?" he groused. "Some of us still like to pretend that we're getting some beauty sleep, you know."

"The bastard stole parts from 'Scythe." Duo spun around to answer Howard's question. His fists were clenched, and he was shaking with rage. "I trusted him, rescued him from that damn hospital, and this is how he repays me?"

"Him?" Howard couldn't resist asking, even though he already knew the answer. The way Duo was acting, he could only be referring to one person.

"Him." Duo nodded vigorously. "Heero. The guy who jumps out of windows without a parachute, and grosses me out by setting his own bones." He sighed. "Obviously that wasn't enough though. He had to go one further."

"Aah," said Howard, trying to hide his amusement. "So he fixed his own Gundam with parts from yours and then left, hmm?"

"Left. Gone." Duo kicked a toolbox and sent it flying. "No one touches 'Scythe but me. No one."

"No one?" Howard raised an eyebrow. "Guess you won't be wanting me to fix him up for you then." G would be very interested to hear of this turn of events. Watching the two kids interact had been very entertaining. He fought the urge to chuckle but was unsuccessful.

"It's not funny, Howard." Duo glared at him.

"Depends on your point of view, Duo," Howard drawled. He shook his head. These kids really didn't have much of a clue of the bigger scheme of things. They had been given the information they needed to get the job done but not much else. The responsibility they were carrying would be enough for someone his own age, let alone theirs.

He and the others had waited too long for this to see it fail now. Work had begun on the Gundams even before the fall of Sanq. Howard could still remember the assassination of the original Heero Yuy, and the resulting chaos. It was something that would be engraved in his memory forever. Damn J and his weird sense of humour, giving his kid that code name. But then subtly had never been one of J's strong points.

Placing a hand on Duo's shoulder, Howard gave him a grin. "We'd better be starting on repairs to your Gundam, I expect. Won't be long before you're needed again."

"Yeah," Duo agreed. "No rest for the wicked." He grinned back, his bad mood seemingly gone, although Howard suspected that it was only hidden. One day that joker's mask was going to crack, and Howard hoped like hell that there would be someone around to pick up the pieces. Although he'd only known Duo a short time, he'd heard enough about him over the years, and had grown fond of him since they had met.

"I think I have some spare parts around here somewhere." Howard scratched his head, pondering, not for the first time, how he'd become repairman to the very machines he'd helped to develop.

"Shame Heero didn't find those instead of stealing mine," Duo muttered.

"Probably didn't know where to look," Howard replied absently. "Though I doubt you've seen the last of him. It's going to take more than one Gundam to bring down OZ, Duo."

The plan had been for five, and they were already down to four. Unless…

Howard realised that Duo had said something. "What?" Howard shook his head and sighed. "Okay, slow down, and repeat it again from the beginning. Just what parts did he take…exactly?"

To be continued

Next on Domino:

EPISODE SIX – RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

Wufei attacks Victoria Base. Trowa escapes, coming across traces of Quatre's hacking while erasing the computers of all data on the Gundam Pilots.


End file.
